


'cause all of my kindness; is taken for weakness.

by thackeryisatop (orphan_account)



Series: sucker[s] [2]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Awkwardness, E-mail and Texting Snippets, Light Angst, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Oral Sex, Service Top, Sex Talk Throughout, The sundance indie rom com of the branjie universe basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21588793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/thackeryisatop
Summary: [based on that one tumblr post where the girl gives her number to a guy who turns out to be gay; but don't worry- he has a twin brother, who would be perfect for her! adjusted, of course, for boys who like boys; do drag, are dumb.]Jose wishes he could be Vanessa all the time; especially after the cute guy he meets in line for yucca fries one night ends up becoming friends with his "big sister".
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Series: sucker[s] [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555918
Comments: 42
Kudos: 57





	1. i'm just trying to make it back home by monday morning;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: lots of swearing, light sexual talk throughout. "Underage" drinking though everyone is over 18, they're just in America. 
> 
> [tags will be updated with sexual content warnings when they come up- probably next chapter!]

_It shouldn't be so hard._

It's not like high school anymore; the hot shame of everyone knowing Jose is different, and all being too shy and too scared of his real tough older brothers and his mom on the PTA to say anything, faded like the letters on their football jackets.

He passes by five hundred posters every day that remind everyone this is college, and they're adults.

_Grown-ups shouldn't have secrets._

It's not like that awkward time right afterwards; when he'd turned eighteen and all he'd wanted to do was be different, and he'd believed the first person to tell him how special he was and let them pick him up at the end of the street with nothing but his backpack; and shatter his heart into a million pieces.

_Boys shouldn't cry so hard, or so much._

(Even _if_ they liked boys.

 _Especially_ if they liked boys.)

Jose collects his books from his locker; which is thankfully twice as big as the ones they had at his glaringly underfunded high school; carefully flipping the front covers inwards so they can hide against the soft cloth cover of his zippered binder; so maybe people will think he's real smart, like he's supposed to be here.

He fixes his hair carefully in the mirror he's taped to the door, winking at his reflection.

You _shouldn't_ be nineteen; and struggling through classes everyone else took in the tenth grade in community college because you're Real Stupid- not the kind that people just say as a joke. The kind that actually comes with paperwork and meetings, a bottle of pills he wishes he could just take to stay up for hours like everyone else does; and his Mom's very pointed reminders that you can't get a job at the makeup counter without that piece of paper (she should know, 'cause she's almost the boss), so he's got to get it together. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, as he's kicking the door to his locker closed, and no matter what, Jose can't help the grin that spreads across his face as he reads the texts splashed across his screen.

**2:30pm**

**my good bitch reverend silky, pHd**

alexis put you on her bill tomorrow

we gotta fuck off before midnight when they start enforcing ID ;P

& don't go on the floor cuz we ain't 21

they not tryin to get in trouble

be ready for 7:30 in all ur jush

**2:31pm**

we gonna make hella tips NO POOL and u know

big silks don't check for no ID sooooo

don't drive cuz we gonna be turning up lol auntie coco said she was gonna DD

can't waiiiiit

miss VANESSA

* * *

With her; everything is _easier._

It's seven forty-five on a Thursday night, and Vanessa is shameless, ripping through the fabric of her cheap; imitation silk robe to reveal a jeweled swimsuit underneath as she shakes her perfect ass; licking her sparkling lips and batting her eyelashes, so long that they're scratching against her brows; to tease the men at the front of the stage; whose greasy; thick fingers slide into the ties of her boots with folded dollar bills between them.

(Alexis- _that's her drag mother;_ says they shouldn't be touching her, and she doesn't have to let them- but Vanessa is desperate to do well; or at least be _good enough_ \- and the burning feeling that they leave behind disappears the moment that the music changes; anyway.

It's _not_ a big deal.

Jose will not let that become a big deal- _he cannot be what ruins this for her_.)

_She's desired._

_Lusted after._

_Looked at._

_Confident._

(He hadn't even thought he'd _like_ drag; the idea of dressing up as a girl, no matter how beautiful he had thought it would feel; still so much more embarrassing and shameful than screaming out of the windows of his best friend's car that he was available and took cocks up the ass daily.

He didn't; doesn't, and still sort of hopes maybe people _think_ he does.

If Jose has got to be gay; he may as well be _wanted_ , right?)

Vanessa dresses herself how the girls on TV do; all bright colors and gaudy, sparkling fabric that barely covers anything, _her_ perfect body doused with glitter and perfume; towering in her thigh-high boots like a superhero. She rides with the beat of the music, sticking her tongue out as she tosses her tips in the air in front of her and lets herself fall backwards into the dip; her signature move. The stage shakes below her; the sheer force of the drop leaving her winded for just a moment before she pops right back up; and all she can see are the flashing lights reflecting off of one of the cheap disco balls in the center of the dance floor.

It's seven forty-seven; and Vanessa sinks to her knees on the stage; letting herself fall into a kiss from a gorgeous guy wearing nothing but a jockstrap and a harness.

Jose's a little scared; when his hand snakes up behind her pink wig; but _Vanessa_ swallows her fears, and kisses him back until she can see Alexis at the corners of the stage; motioning her to get off.

" _What the fuck, bitch?_ "

"I don't give a fuck!", she screams, and Vanessa is so giddy; bubbly and grinning, that Alexis can't even stay mad for long.

 _The trick to not having your heart broken_ , Vanessa whispers to Jose, while he's been exiled to the very back of the dressing room, where he can barely even see Silky doing her Aretha Franklin number; _is try to not have one at all._

* * *

Vanessa is capital D; white girl wasted drunk- her bright pink curls plastered to the side of her face; creamy rose-gold blush smeared all over Coco's passenger side window. The bright red nails she'd taken such great care to glue on right (because Alexis would be checking, and Vanessa had to be _right_ ) had almost all cracked off in the club's parking lot while they had packed their cases into the backseat.

She's perfumed with Hennessy, dripping with adrenaline and freedom; sticking up her middle fingers through the windows; and finding it infinitely funny that she still had nails there; and on her thumbs, as if God had left them on the only fingers you needed to say anything important.

She's got ninety dollars in cash in her backpack and the world is spinning; leaving her warm and fluid; her bones feeling like they're made out of jelly as Silky shouts something from the backseat; and the cool air of a dead black desert night blasts at them as Coco's speeding down the highway.

They hadn't wanted to get out of drag once Vanessa had to leave the club; not really- Silky didn't care either way; her face still on and her t-shirt rolled up underneath her tits, and Vanessa hated to take off her face, ever since she'd started to be allowed to dress like a _real_ girl; not one of Alexis' pageant dolls.

She loved the feeling of the air on her bare legs; the tops of her thighs exposed underneath fluorescent pink running shorts and a matching bra top; her middle completely exposed and dripping with shimmer, her chest only covered with necklaces whose weight she could barely feel; arms spread wide to the stars as she poured shots from the dashboard down her throat.

The thing about living in a desert is; _every day_ is hot girl summer.

Silky grabs at her hair, and Vanessa's heart is filled with such utter joyful disbelief that her best friend in the whole world is _so_ nice, and they have friends like Coco; a _real_ drag queen who wins pageants, letting them get drunk just to watch.

They could have afforded a cab, but it doesn't seem to matter that Coco's only riding high on being happy; because she thinks Silky is just so funny, and Vanessa doesn't disagree.

"You having fun?", Coco asks.

" _Mmmhmm_."

"You still living at that same place? That building beside the Walgreens?"

" _Yesss._ "

"Your mom gonna be home to let you in?"

It would be embarrassing; but _Vanessa_ , Vanessa's never met shame; in more ways than the ways that she dances on the stage; and she just nods. "Yeah. I love her."

"Bitch, you love _everybody_ tonight.", Silky just laughs, as Coco turns off the highway into her suburb. "You was doing real good, too, I saw you got your hands that boy though and _child-_ "

"Wait- w-"

Vanessa twists around to the backseat, grabbing at Silky's shoulder, pawing at her friend like a cat.

"We gotta stop."

"You gonna puke? Bitch, if you puke up in my car, I _will_ beat your ass and throw you in a ditch.", Coco threatens, but her voice is filled with mirth. 

Vanessa shakes her head, and pushes Silky's face gently against the open air of the window beside her.

"No, we gotta stop for yucca fries.", she says, pointing up at the neon sign that's half blown-out, towering over the parking lot just up the road; and Coco just bursts out laughing.

"We gotta- you know what bitch, fine. We gonna stop for your fries. Go on, get it outta your tips."

* * *

Vanessa is stuck to Silky's side; almost twisting her ankle twice in the gravel parking lot, but when she bursts through the door; on solid ground, she almost falls flat on her face because the hottest guy on earth is there standing in line; and she's just courageous enough that she wants to run up to him and tell him she's loved him since the one time he sat next to her in their Learning Skills class; and real stupid Jose had spent the next hour with his legs crossed and a notebook held stiff over his crotch.

The joy of living in a college town is just that, she knows everybody; and tonight, Silky's right: _she loves all of them_.

The bars of light above them are bright and harsh; sobering them up just enough that the world isn't fuzzy at the corners anymore, and Vanessa can walk forward on her stilettos, even if it isn't a straight line.

The hot guy is alone; wearing blue sweatpants and a thin; loose white t-shirt, his phone in his hand. He's half shaved; his hair falling in wet curls across his face, kept just a little bit too long to be stylish- the stubble on his cheeks and jawline cutting the most masculine picture in Vanessa's mind, even if it's a little sloppy. He must be taller than her, even in her tallest pair of heels; his body wide and solid, leaning against the rails of the turnstile, a red hoodie slung across his shoulders.

If she wasn't so drunk; she wouldn't have felt the absolute exhilaration; of pulling her phone from the pocket of her shorts and AirDropping him her number.

(Vanessa can do _that._

She can read really well, even when she's drunk- his name starts with a B so she finds him easily in the menu, which means that she _really_ does have superpowers.)

Silky pulls her into her chest, face resting against Silky's exposed tits.

"Bitch, you really wilding out here tonight.", she mutters, and Vanessa doesn't mind.

" _Look at him._ ", she whispers; sticking a finger in the air where her nails meet the fabric of his shirt. Silky slaps her entire arm down; just as the guy turns around, shirt clinging to his pecs as fabric bunches around his hips.

"Is...um, is the party going late tonight?", he asks; and his voice is softer than Vanessa would expect; his thick, blonde eyebrows furrowed a little.

Vanessa's mouth falls open, and she wants to say something, but Silky steps in between the two of them, pitching her voice up high and nodding along with him.

"My dude; she don't speak English. Exchange student.", she shouts out; and Vanessa swears she does sound just like the girls who rode on the school bus, fighting about their boyfriends while she had desperately wished she could join them.

The guy nods, and grins down at Vanessa, his lips looking so soft she wishes she could kiss them.

" _Oh._ "

The guy moves ahead in the line; quickly naming his order and moving ahead to end of the line but he does turn back to them as he collects his take-out bag from the boy at the till; tapping on Vanessa's shoulder as he heads toward the door.

"You two make sure you stay safe tonight, okay?", he says; silence hanging a little bit heavy as the touch of his fingers feels soft against Vanessa's skin. His blue eyes seem so impossibly sparkly; that Vanessa sighs a little big despite herself. "Like, I don't want to be _that_ guy, but make sure you have a ride. "

He licks his lips, and smiles right at her; and holds up his phone from his hand. "Don't be a stranger, too."

Once the glass doors have shut behind him; and the two of them watch his headlights spray all across the parking lot as his ride pulls away; Silky slaps Vanessa so hard across her cheek that she's pretty sure (for the next _five minutes,_ anyway) that she probably _could_ walk a straight line.

( _Right into that boy's heart!_ )

"Girl, the fuck you doing, giving straight mens your number? _You is a drag queen..._ The fuck you been drinking to be this gassed up on your bullshit?

" _He's cute_.", Vanessa murmurs, still floating beside her best friend. " _He's from school. He's in my class_."

" _He goes to your school?_ What the fuck you gonna tell him when he sees you up in there, huh? You crazy bitch."

Vanessa just shakes her head; and wants to squeeze her entire body into Silky's side." _I love you._ "

"Love you too.", she giggles, but she's already in front of Vanessa, body draped over the counter. "And I would also love me some extra large yucca fries; take-out; two b- make that three boxes, but one's veggie-"

* * *

Jose's phone is buzzing and ringing, the bells he has set as his alarm tone screaming across his bedroom from where he had plugged it in to charge.

" _-...the fuck-_ "

His head had been pounding since he had stumbled into the apartment a little past three am; expecting to be hungover and perhaps a little sick, the cold air of the desert night and sweaty and lukewarm heat of the club's dance floor always leaving him a little bit nauseous as it mixed with alcohol and adrenaline and glue and powder on his face.

Waking up at almost four in the afternoon; sweaty and shaking, coughing so hard he sounded like he'd swallowed half a junkyard had not been part of the plan.

It was karma, he supposed- some type of revenge that _Jesus_ had to have his hand in, punishment for getting wasted and saucy and having his hands and his lips all over men who weren't his boyfriends. He vaguely remembered Silky dropping him off in front of his building, Coco's car staying idling on the curb outside until he had waved them away from the balcony; truly ecstatic his Mom had indeed left the door unlocked.

 _Was she angry?_ , he wondered, forcing himself into the bathroom to dig for cold medicine and cough syrup, grabbing his phone along the way.

The screen is lit up with plenty of notifications, texts from Silky; asking if he's alive, texts from his Mom; telling him to feel better- the app that's supposed to remind him to go to class on time, and the app that tracks his the bills that get paid from his account. At the very bottom of his screen; though- are a few texts from a number that he doesn't know, piquing his curiosity as he collapses back into his bed.

**8:02pm**

**+1 555 813 0811**

Hi,

This is Brock, the guy who you gave your number to in line for yucca fries yesterday.

Do you remember? You and your friend seemed really lit

ahaha

-

_"Shit."_

Jose rolls over in his bed, curling his pillow into his chest, his feet kicking outwards, as he burrows deeper into the blanket draped over his body, the memory coming in flashes as his cheeks burn with more embarrassment than fever.

He wonders if he starts praying now; maybe God will reach back into time, and Silky will _eat_ his phone before he can act this much of a fool in public.

**8:02pm**

I absolutely love your confidence, and you're a really gorgeous girl, but I have to tell you that I'm gay.

-

Jose's mouth drops open, as he furiously scrolls to see the rest of the message.

**8:02pm**

So unfortunately, we really wouldn't work out! Haha :)

I hope you understand, and don't take this the wrong way. 

I'm really awkward in person, I'm so sorry lol :(

If you'd like to, I would still love to be friends.

**8:03pm**

omg I forgot you don't speak English.

I'm so SORRY.

**8:03pm**

aaaaand- I just sent that. omg I'm not helping myself.

I hope I'm not seeming rude to you. I'm going to have my friend translate.

I'm SO sorry. I'm such a mess!

**8:32pm**

I speak English!

-

Jose's fingers fly over the screen; too quickly to properly catch up with his brain.

**8:32 pm**

I just don't talk much.

-

That's not really true; and he guiltily types out something a little bit closer to the truth below it.

**8:32 pm**

People make fun of my voice.

-

He's surprised to see the bubbles at the bottom of the screen light up gray and white; because Brock is typing. He's on his phone right now; and actually replying. 

Silky was gonna be so _gagged-_

**8:33pm**

your voice like you mean your accent?

that really sucks. i hate that so many people at our school are racist fucks.

**8:33pm**

Yeah :(

**8:34pm**

It's okay though, I'm pretty quiet, too. I don't like talking to everybody all the time.

So you must be pretty cool, if I'm talking to you, right?

Haha, I'm just kidding. ;)

**8:34pm**

I bet your voice sounds beautiful, btw!

I sound super gay and everyone back home used to make fun of me so I get it

I wish I spoke something else, too, but I quit French when I was in Grade 9.

**8:34pm**

lol! you mean 9th grade?

**8:35pm**

We say Grade 9 in Canada! That's where I'm from.

What about you?

**8:35pm**

Only if you're okay with sharing.

Wow I'm such a nerd.

I'm really sorry you probably think I'm so full of shit lol

**8:36pm**

Puerto Rico.

**8:36pm**

Wow :)

Never been there, what's it like?

**8:36pm**

Okay, that's a lie- I think my mom went with her friends once.

**8:36pm**

idk its okay i guess. actually we moved to florida when i was a kid.

**8:37pm**

oh cool :)

Canada's kind of the same. Colder and drier.

But not really different.

**8:37pm**

Okay kind of a weird question

And it's REALLY gay

**8:38pm**

okay

**8:38pm**

whats the best place here to get your hair done?

i want to dye mine all blonde just for the fall.

whoever does yours is so good, love the pink :)

I don't think I could commit to something like that lol

**8:38pm**

i'm not really a commitment person

-

Jose pauses a little bit there, flipping around in his bed so he can properly read what Brock is saying.

**8:40pm**

whaaaat

loyalty is important!

lol

**8:42pm**

hold on i'll get you their number!

-

He flicks through to his contacts screen; and dials up his mom at work; before realizing how late it is, and scrolling down to find her cell number instead.

"Hi kiddo.", she picks up on the very first ring, and Jose can hear the music in the background.

He figures after last night; she deserves her night out on the town, too.

"You must be feeling better, hm?"

"Yeah- I just had a question- where do you get your hair done? What's the best place if I wanted to get a color? Like a really good color that no bitch could ever clock?"

He can hear her laugh a little bit; but unlike everyone else, she's not laughing at him to make fun of him.

"Hot Topic has every color on sale."

" _Mommmm_ \- C'mon...I want to...", his tongue is thick, and Jose has no idea why. "-I wanna get Alexis a present. Like a spa day...just to say thank you for everything. So it's gotta be like, a boujie place."

"Okay, okay-"

She rattles off a couple of names, and Jose quickly scrolls through and finds them on Google; firing off the numbers and addresses to Brock. Within seconds, his reply lights up the top window of Jose's phone.

**8:50pm**

Thanks!

Your seriously the coolest.

*you're

Sorry!

lol

* * *

Jose is surprised; when Brock doesn't stop texting him.

Usually, he texts first, but sometimes, Vanessa gets brave, sending him some dumb gif or meme that his friends say is five years too late; but Jose thinks is so funny- and Vanessa is rewarded with heart eyes and laughing emojis.

Usually, they text every night, when Jose is lying in his bed, trying to finish his homework, feeling like he'd rather give up and try to parse out paragraphs of stuff he doesn't care about.

Brock loves to ramble about all kinds of random shit, like why he drinks gravy (Vanessa is _appropriately_ horrified) and he really likes cats and has a lot of opinions about new apps that he doesn't really get.

Sometimes he'll just send a single word, and Vanessa will have a whole story ready; and even if they're just words on a screen, the smile on Jose's face is so real his cheeks always hurt, when he has to put his phone away and at least try to write a couple sentences in his paper.

It's so much easier to talk to someone, when they can't really see _you_ \- and the picture of Vanessa in Brock's mind must match when he forgets that they're not real friends (because Vanessa isn't a _real_ person); and starts talking about his favorite Disney movies; and how the ladies of pop in the late 90's always had something to say.

They bitch about homework; and teachers, and how early they have to get up for some bullshit class neither of them cares about.

One day, Vanessa asks him what kind of guys he likes, and regrets it immediately when Brock's unapologetic message pops up below hers.

**9:47am**

**Brock**

I guess my type is like strong and tough...hahaha

I bet thats weird because I'm kind of flamboyant I guess.

and emotional!

remember when i told you i cried cause my cat was being really cute...

**9:47am**

but I don't want some girly bottom....i hate that.

it's like looking in a mirror and seeing the worst case scenario

I'm just a guy who likes guys.

sometimes I kind of wish I was a straight girl like you are

is that weird?

**9:50am**

not weird at all

lol

**9:51am**

i totally get it.

**9:51pm**

hahahahahahaha

I knew you would :)

-

Brock is a dance major (and Jose is dead serious about maybe transferring into the program since he's always been a great dancer, at least for about ten whole minutes, until he sees you need to have at least a 3.0 to get in; which is more impossible than him magically becoming _straight_ ), so most of his classes except for the ones that count towards his certificate, are electives that explain why Jose is sitting behind Brock in Learning Skills; a class which even the teacher jokes is "for all the kids who can't read good", which fills him with a hot shame while everyone else laughs along.

He watches with a sick fascination as Brock shows his phone to the guy sitting next to him who isn't even in their class, but is exactly the kind of beefy, muscular dude that Vanessa would climb all over at the club- and chuckles as he shows his friend the little video of cats trying to escape from saran wrap someone had spread over the door.

"-see the black one's totally me, and that one's you, Steve.", Brock laughs.

"Where the fuck do you even find this shit?", his friend asks, and Brock shrugs.

"This cute girl that I met in line like a couple weeks ago? She was super drunk, so she sent me her number and actually turned out to be really cool. She's hilarious."

Steve is shaking his head, flicking open Brock's notebook idly while they wait for their teacher.

"You're such a lesbian. Big gay ass lesbian. Did you ever even get her name?"

Brock is nodding, his blue eyes hooded with utter seriousness. "Yeah, it's Vanessa. She's an exchange student from Puerto- wait no, she's from Florida. She's like, objectively, really hot but I guess she's kind of smart too. I think she's a film major or something, because look; it's like she's watched every movie and stuff and says all this really intelligent kind of shit."

Jose's ears perk up at that, and he scoots his chair just a little bit closer, the edge of his table digging into his chest.

No one's ever called him that in his whole life.

Steve is scrolling up through their messages, shaking his head. "Oh my God- the part where she gets in deep about...some J Lo video that came out when we were kids- you sure she's not just smoking really good weed?"

Brock's chair screeches as he pushes himself back, stretching his body as his back arcs backwards, muscles popping underneath his tight, black, sleeveless top. One impossibly long arm swipes in front of Steve as he snatches back his phone, glowering at the other guy who's supposed to be his friend.

"Dude, shut up. So what if she sees that stuff means something? You don't have to be high to do that, you just have to know how to read, dumbass."

"...okay...dude, chill. I'm not trying to diss your girlfriend or whatever."

"She's not my- if you don't like her, _I don't really care._ ", Brock snaps. "Just...stop making it sound like a bad thing that she has stuff she cares about. Maybe you wouldn't be failing like half your classes if you gave a fuck."

Jose is biting down on the inside of his cheek; wishing desperately he could text Silky, even though Silky's in finals right now, and he's been given strict instructions to leave his favorite sister alone.

"Okay, jeez. I take it back.", Steve sighs. "I hope you two get married and all the food is just yucca fries."

* * *

They've been texting for three weeks, when Brock texts Vanessa a photo of himself half-dressed, shirt open in the front to show his abs exposed, the dots underneath the picture of him still lighting up gray and white as Jose nearly spits out his water in the back row of the lecture hall, where he's supposed to be concentrating on how to be a college-ready writer.

_As if._

He's exhausted; the words jumbling together even though he's taken his meds, and the pink highlighter he's fiddling with in his hands not doing its job of making anything easier to read.

He's doodling flowers and spirals in the margins of the textbook (which says that if he just concentrates on what the very first sentences of each paragraph says; the rest of it will be easier even if he doesn't know all the words) when his phone starts to rattle on the table. 

**11:23am**

**Brock**

Do I look okay? I'm kind of looking into doing some modelling for extra money.

So I can pay off some of my loan lol

I thought I should ask someone who knew what to look for :)

**11:23am**

whaaaaat-!

Okay, I'm your bitch...

**11:24am**

Good!

okay is this one good?

**11:24am**

fierce!!

hey papi....

lol

sorry, too much?

**11:25am**

hahahahaha

awww

no!

Thanks, baby. :)

I didn't want to send these to a guy, because, I don't know I guess it would just be kind of weird.

What if it was a guy that might be hot?

Or a guy I liked?

-

Several minutes later; he sends another, this time, his face is half hidden underneath a straw cowboy hat, his thumbs hooked in the band of his underwear, the front zipped hanging open with a leather belt unbuckled right above his crotch.

Brock's pants are rolled up so that the hems rest above his bulging calves and a pair of ornate red and brown cowboy boots. Jose zooms in to the photo, and swears he can feel himself melt even though the fan is full blast above him.

**11:31am**

The website said that I should have a full body shot.

Is this okay?

Steve said I look very brokeback mountain.

He took this by the way!

**11:31am**

you look great!

**11:32am**

Thanks :)

do you think I should show more of my ass though?

i think i have a pretty good ass, from dance.

-

Jose waits a moment to send his reply, sucking in a very deep breath before he does.

**11:33am**

a side view would be good.

* * *

When Vanessa bursts into the club dressing room for the next time she's booked; her smile stretched ear to ear as she shuffles past Silky at the mirror; dragging her pink suitcase behind her as she jumps up on to the bench.

" _Y'all are gonna start putting some respect on my name in here_!"

"Or you're gonna shut up before we all are out of a job when the club finds out Mommy and Auntie are letting you babies drink.", Coco chuckles, lightly ruffling her hair as she passes behind them, tucking the lace from her wig underneath the cap with her fingers.

"Why you acting so crazy, huh? You got yourself a man?"

"A man? The only mens Miss Thang got in her inbox is princes from Nigeria. This bitch don't even go on Grindr.", Silky teases, resting her thick hand above her sister's suitcase to push herself up off the bench.

"You hoes need to watch your dirty ass mouths! Y'all are sharing your stank dressing room tonight with a hundred percent real biological female _woman._ "

"Sis; you feeling the fantasy!", Coco shouts, holding a hand over her face for a high five.

"Not just _feeling_ it-", Vanessa giggles, bubbling with a heat that seems to rise from her center, and pulling her phone out from her pocket to lay it front of all her sisters. "Look what he said- _"I have to tell you I'm gay."_ He doesn't know. That's a whole ass man who thinks I'm a whole ass woman."

Silky grabs the phone away; and scrolls through their whole thread of texts; eyes wide when her eyes skim past the photos Brock had sent.

" _I'm your bitch-_ girl... y'all know he about to murder you when he finds out you a drag queen! He tall, white, and he think you a woman! I seen that episode of Nancy Grace, and that man is three kinds of serial killer right there.", Silky laughs, lightly slapping her hand against Vanessa's shoulder. "If you miss a gig, we reporting you missing."

Vanessa's face burns a little bit underneath her peachy blush . "Shut up. He's cool... he's a cool guy."

And Brock is _cool._

More importantly, Brock thinks Vanessa is _cool;_ even though he's not really talking to _her._

Alexis tilts her face up in the light, brushing her thumb against the red shadow below her brows. "I know, baby. We're just trying to make sure you don't get hurt."

_"What the fuck's that mean?"_

_"Just...-"_

Vanessa's never been _afraid_ of Alexis, but she's the only one who knows what happened with her last mess of a boyfriend; and maybe, she's sick of Vanessa coming in here, acting like she's a bad bitch who owns the place, when Alexis was the one who had let her sleep on her couch, and dialed her Mom to come pick her up.

Maybe, she would rat Vanessa out in a second; and then Silky and Coco won't want to be her friends, or her sisters anymore.

There's a spare moment where she feels nothing but total dread, before Alexis shrugs and turns her attention back to doing her own makeup. 

"Just that men are pulling all kinds of bullshit out there. Like last night on the news- they had this story about some of these men who hang out in the parking lot at the mall, and just snatch up people-..."

* * *

Vanessa has never seen Silky look so completely terrified; and she swears that her friend is several shades paler, even though she knows Silky always paints herself several shades too dark.

Vanessa's supposed to go on stage after Coco, and she's spraying down her hair, making sure that everything will be perfect for her brand new Beyonce mix, when Silky rushes her backstage, shoving a hand against her chest.

"You off the bill tonight, Mary.", she says, pushing the both of them past the dressing rooms, into a cold back hallway where the garbage from the kitchen is still waiting to be taken out.

"- _what_? Hey, wait- why? I been doing real good- making my tips and the guys love-"

"It's not about that. That guy on your phone is out there."

" _Brock?_ "

"Whatever white ass name he got. Him and his dumbass shitty hairline out there, looking emo as fuck and all alone at the bar. And I'm not about to let you go out there and get your ass beat when he finds out he been sending his teaser nudes to a thirsty gay boy pretending to be a girl."

"- _I'm not thirsty-_ "

" _Shut up-!_ Look, go hide out in the bathroom and text Alexis, and tell her you got food poisoning or your mom's car ain't starting so you got a family emergency. Maybe we get lucky and he leaves at eleven, so you can do your number then before we get kicked out."

Vanessa's powerless to stop Silky, who leads her down the hallway and kicks open the bathroom door, motioning for Vanessa to sit up on the counter.

"See, this is what they say up in church when they saying that God sees you lying and it all catches up to you when you try to run a stunt.", Silky mutters. "Just wait a little, I'm gonna go get you your phone."

Vanessa moans; kicking at the slick tile floor as she waits.

Silky's absolutely right- she _can't_ keep the lie going on forever, so right when she gets her phone; she taps on the little circle beside Brock's name first.

**10:03pm**

**Brock**

Hey :)

I know ur probably really busy right now

But can you text me back quick when you get this?

-

Her heart is beating so loudly; as the little circles underneath the message light up almost instantly.

_Could Silky have lied?_

**10:03pm**

Not busy :(

I went out clubbing with Steve, but it's so fucking boring.

I think he picked up a guy... I don't know.

I'm so boring haha

**10:03pm**

ur not boring :P

ummm can I ask you something that might be kinda awkward?

**10:04pm**

your boyfriend wants you to try ass stuff?

okay I have a website with really good advice lol

**10:04pm**

haha nooooo :P :P

-

Vanessa sighs, resting her cheek against the cool brick wall of the bathroom, clenching her fist tightly by her side.

She can't keep lying, but Jose can't bear to lose Brock; and Vanessa can't do that to him.

**10:07pm**

are you single?

**10:08pm**

lol Vanessa, are you okay?

I'm gay remember?

lol

Are you drunk texting right now?

**10:08pm**

I'm not asking for me... haha

Sooooo...I have a little brother.

he's gay and that's why I didn't want to say anything, because I don't wanna be like taking advantage of us being friends or something like that

because it's not like that at all.

I just think you guys might be kinda compatible?

I'm REALLY sorry if this is weird

lol

**10:10pm**

omg

hahahahahaha

no, it's not awkward at all!

seriously you have a brother?

**10:10pm**

yeah.

baby bro :P

**10:10pm**

omg seriously?

that's actually so cool hahahaha

Definitely introduce us!

**10:11pm**

Seriously?

I just thought this would be so weird!

Funny story actually, I think you guys are in the same class?

He told me he knows a guy named Brock in his Learning Skills class? Is that you?

**10:12pm**

omg who's your brother???

**10:12pm**

His name is Jose :)

**10:13pm**

LITTLE JOSE IN THE BACK ROW!

omg, lol I think he has a crush on me

**10:13pm**

wtf seriously? wow, small world!

**10:13pm**

hahahahahaha

nah I'm just kidding.

i don't think we've ever talked, I just know his name because he's the only Jose in the class.

you think he'll like me though?

**10:14pm**

He's totally your type.

Really masculine, and I'm pretty sure he's a top.

That's okay, right?

**10:15pm**

You guys must be really close if you know he's a top lmao

**10:15pm**

We live together so I know way too much because he's always bringing these guys home haha

I don't think he's a commitment person lol

Just like you ;)

**10:16pm**

hahahahahaha omg

he sounds great

That's okay. I'm vers most of the time.

I bet he told you what that means... lol

**10:17pm**

I know what that means omg!!

So is it okay if I give him your number?

**10:18pm**

totally!

I promise to treat your baby brother right.

-

Vanessa sinks down on to the top of the toilet seat; biting down on her bottom lip as she watches the white and gray flashing dots fade as Brock stops typing.

**10:20pm**

**Brock**

Hiii again

Ummmmm

Can I actually get your email?

Jose didn't pay for his phone so it got cut off lol

**10:20pm**

Totally!

I can't wait to meet him :)

If he's half as cool as you I miiiight just have a boyfriend....

love you, Vanessa

hahaha

For real though!

-

Brock fires off a text with a link to his e-mail; and all of the air whooshes out of Vanessa's chest as she braces herself against the bathroom counter, raising one golden-tipped fingernail to her reflection in the mirror.

" _You better not fuck this up, you stupid ass hoe._ "

It's as good a pep talk as any; but the next text she sends- telling Alexis she can't get on stage because she's dry heaving into the toilet in that bathroom beside the dumpster door- is nothing but the truth, the whole truth, and if God isn't gonna start helping Jose, Vanessa's going to make sure he gets his man. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in b4 all the comments that "Vanjie could never pull a stunt like this!"- this is probably one of the ONLY stunts that she absolutely could, and absolutely would pull, and pull off about as well as she did up there!
> 
> brockinducedmeltdown261 on Tumblr :)


	2. I swear I wish somebody would tell me; [Oh, that's all I want.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the insane delay everyone, but you'll be happy to note: you are indeed going to get your third chapter! 
> 
> This one is a beast (!) from Brock's POV for the most part; so who knows, maybe there will even be more chapters before it...ends correctly. 
> 
> This chapter is kind of an experiement and stylistically different from the last one so we'll see how that goes!
> 
> CW: Oral Sex, mentions of rimming, handjobs, smoking, body image issues and soft soft soft boys

It would be so much easier; if he were just someone else; born to be one of _them_ , one of those people who moved through their lives unable to be tied down to a single thing in their way.

It's been a little bit of an obsession, for his whole life; that maybe if he tries to parse it out, he'll find he can trace all the way back to being five years old; wearing a dishrag over his wet hair, twirling on the kitchen tile and pretending that he's a prince on his way to rescue his one true love, and kissing the air where he imagines he'll find that feeling that all of the songs on those movies he's not really allowed to watch talk about: _speechless, exhilarated, free-falling, warmth_.

(His sisters and brother call this craving _jealousy_ ; stroking his hair when he cries, and telling him it's normal to want so much more than the sheltered walls of their home want to offer.

It's not his fault, because he's going to be so much bigger than this.

All of them will be.)

Finding the right word for it; unsurprisingly, doesn't help; and if he ever wanted to map everything out properly, find the reasons for why it was that his hands shake a little bit- buried deep in his pockets when he walks past the sharp eyes of the seven girls and one other boy when he auditions for the most prestigious ballet school in Canada; taking his place at the barre- he would know it was that moment _there_ ; when finding out that being gay wasn't an answer to any of the questions that floated in his mind, buried deep underneath cigarettes and fists clenched tightly until he can run, and find a quiet place to breathe.

(Kissing boys _didn't_ make him speechless.

Fucking them _didn't_ make him feel warm.

He's ninety-five percent, on most days; _sure_ that girls won't make him feel a thing- and he even tried kissing his other best friend Courtney just to check- terrified that maybe there's something really wrong with him, and no matter who he wakes up beside, all he free-falls into is absolute disappointment.)

Brock is alone (and he's beginning to find he feels best when he is, the expectations of the world around him fading away into the very corners of his eyes; where he doesn't have to look unless he wants to), the bubbles at the very top near the rim of the clear plastic cup hanging from his thumb and forefinger making his drink look like it might be a vodka soda in the dark; gray lights of the bar.

He's lost his best friend, Steve, in the crush of people who fill the dance floor from its corners, his black mesh t-shirt one of what feels like hundreds as Brock's eyes sweep through the crowd.

He wishes he could join them; as desperately as he wants to slide to his knees in front of the boxes where gorgeous boys wearing little else but iridescent fabric over their cocks are pumping their fists in the air, and have them tug dollar bills from between his teeth; or reach his hands towards the stage, catching on the fringe of the drag queen's bright orange showgirl costume, that glitters underneath the spotlights in ways which even the most beautiful and ornamental of his costumes from the ballet never will.

He's sipping at his water; hot breath leaving puffs of vapor on the side of the cup; when his phone starts to vibrate in his back pocket; messages piling on top of each other on the home screen. He swipes to open them, and his fingers fly over the keyboard; a real, warm, smile curling up his lips as he watches the grey and white dots lighting up underneath each message he replies to.

Maybe it would be easier to be someone else; but it's not the _worst_ to be himself; because there's a trick of the light sometimes; a proper illusion that falls around him like the invisibility cloak from Harry Potter; hiding away his gritted teeth behind a gorgeous shimmer; and that's when people like Vanessa start to think he's okay.

 _Vanessa_ thinks he's cool; and it feels absolutely exhilarating.

She says he's cool enough to introduce to her brother; who Brock can already feel; must burn as bright as she does, even though he doesn't remember him and can barely recognize his name; Brock's memory far too fleeting to put a face to Jose. Except, there's a vague flash of Maybe Him, slipping into his seat behind Brock dressed in tight, black shorts and a huge, neon green sweater, his hands still hidden in the sleeves as his eyes are trained to the cool tile floor of the classroom.

Vanessa thinks they would be _compatible._

He promises he'll treat her baby brother right; and even though they're just words on a screen, his thumbs moving faster than the beat of the music that blasts from the speakers above him; Brock's breathing slows, and he feels warmer, limbs soft and fluid.

It's the best he's felt in a very long time; and he's going to make sure he gets this _right_. 

* * *

**11:05pm**

**To:** Bboy LatinDevil [bboylatindevil91@gmail.com]

 **From:** Brock H. [bhayhoe1@studenthub.mail]

 **Subject** **: Hi I'm Brock from Learning Skills**

**-**

**11:05pm**

**To:** Bboy LatinDevil [bboylatindevil91@gmail.com]

 **From:** Brock H. [bhayhoe1@studenthub.mail]

**Subject: Good Morning!**

-

**11:05pm**

**To:** Bboy LatinDevil [bboylatindevil91@gmail.com]

 **From:** Brock H. [bhayhoe1@studenthub.mail]

**Subject: Hey Whats up**

hey!!

got your email from your sister who said your phone got cut off so i thought this would be the best way to say hi!

just wanted to know if you wanted to hang out, hit me up if you're down for chilling and stuff

**-**

**11:07pm**

**To:** Bboy LatinDevil [bboylatindevil91@gmail.com]

 **From:** Brock H. [bhayhoe1@studenthub.mail]

**Subject: [No Subject]**

Hey there :) I promise I'm not a creep or a scammer! Your sister Vanessa is one of my best friends and she gave me your e-mail.

I know it's weird and awkward, and if I'm out of line, please let me know. Don't take it out on her, I think she's just trying her best and I totally remember my older sisters being crazy af too, right lol

She said we might hit it off, so if that's something you're interested in at all, I was thinking we could meet up after class on Monday, if that's cool with you? If you don't want to, that's totally okay. Just let me know!

Or I guess if you don't reply, I'd know?

Thanks,

Brock.

-

**11:15pm**

**[Are you sure you would like to send this E-mail without text in the Subject Line?]**

[Yes.] **[No.]**

**11:25pm**

**To:** Bboy LatinDevil [bboylatindevil91@gmail.com]

 **From:** Brock H. [bhayhoe1@studenthub.mail]

**Subject: [No Subject]**

Hey there!

I hope this e-mail finds you well, i promise I'm not a creep or a scammer! I actually got your e-mail from your sister Vanessa, she's one of my best friends, so I was surprised we hadn't met yet!

Don't take it out on her if this isn't cool with you, by the way! I totally understand. Meeting guys is so hard, right?

Anyway, I was hoping we could meet up sometime, if that's something you're interested in at all.

If not, don't feel like you have to.

But in case you do, I've sent a picture in the attachments so you know what I look like, and so you know I'm a real person. I was thinking we could meet up after Learning Skills on Monday, if you're free then?

Let me know! I have my e-mail on the app on my phone, so whenever you get this, I'll see your reply right away.

All the Best,

Brock

**11:25pm**

**[Are you sure you would like to send this E-mail without text in the Subject Line?]**

**[Yes.]** [No.]

* * *

"I sent him an e-mail yesterday. Do you think I should follow up?", Brock asks, licking at his lips as he lifts a bright red ceramic mug to his lips; the scent of Courtney's hand-ground, dark roast coffee especially delicious as he stretched out on her loveseat; legs hanging over the arm of the couch as he watched her fold herself into the sill of the bay window, the hot red sun rising over the dusty; taupe sand of the horizon.

"Yesterday was... _seven hours ago_. That's not even a whole day.", she says, shaking her head, her purple and green pigtails a bit washed out by the natural sunlight. He loves having breakfast with her, loves how their conversations always ebb and flow properly; quiet periods between them passing with little acknowledgement; where everyone else stares awkwardly right at him whenever he falls quiet with nothing left to say.

Instead, Courtney just shrugs and fills in the details, her words building wild stories that always leave Brock grinning; hanging on to every last sentence, and he pays her the same courtesy, whenever she wants to sit quietly across from him, stroking her kitten in her lap and taking spare sips from a massive tumbler of tea covered with stickers.

Courtney reminds him of Vanessa; but more than that, she reminds Brock of his older sister- soft even around her rough edges, even though she's a little younger than him.

Sometimes, she's smarter than him, too, which is why she's especially useful when facing a crisis. 

"But it's Sunday. I mean, I have technique class at seven so I won't even be awake at eleven-thirty."

"I didn't mean the exact hour, dumbass.", she laughs, poking a fork into the oozing yolk of the scrambled eggs resting in a plate on her lap. Brock had practically poured his own eggs down his throat in the kitchen, not caring much as the yellow juice dribbled down his chin, desperate to get something else in his stomach after having had nothing to eat the night before.

Steve had gleefully handed him the keys to his white Jeep; and Brock had nearly passed out from the sheer dread of being a very sober, and very _unlicensed_ driver, driving as slowly-fast as possible down the highway and swearing that he could see the cops and hear sirens around every corner. Meanwhile, his very best friend in the whole world had just rolled down his windows and stuck out his tongue; popping it loudly down the quiet suburban street that led to the place they shared with Courtney, spinning in the terra cotta driveway until Brock had managed to shove him face down into his unmade bed in the basement suite.

Brock had no idea why it was that he put up with Steve; except that Steve did the same for him, which made them much more of a family than people who simply fucked and had kids.

That, and Steve had a wonderful gray-black tabby cat named Bruce, whose fur was almost too fantastically soft and was nestled into Brock's side.

"Besides, we're in the same class. You wouldn't need to be asleep by eleven if you didn't wake up at four just to pluck your eyebrows.", Courtney teases.

"I don't pluck my eyebrows-...I mean, not every time I'm early. I just like being punctual and responsible. Which is a lesson you should be learning from me, Miss Late on your Power Bill."

"If you're coming for the power bill, I'm coming for you stealing my deodorant, you gross troll."

" _I didn't-_ I just used it once! Besides, no one should deprive themselves of smelling like acai berry and rosewater."

They're both laughing as Courtney slides into the kitchen on her fuzzy orange socks to throw her dishes in the sink; sinking into the cushions beside Brock when she comes back into the living room.

"So-", she starts, reaching across his body to paw at his phone in the pocket of his hoodie. "-C'mon, let's see the pics. I wanna know what this man who has _Brockie_ all worried looks like."

"I'm not worried! I just- I dunno. Besides, I don't have pictures. I only technically like, know his sister. And he doesn't have a phone.", Brock tells her with a tiny shrug. "That's why I had to send an e-mail."

"You _what-_?"

Courtney's jaw drops open, and she fishes Brock's phone from his pocket. "You sent this guy a picture of yourself and you've never even seen him? Did you seriously pay zero attention to stranger danger in school?"

"Vanessa said he was in my class, and I guess I know his name? Besides-", Brock winks, hoping both his eyes aren't closing when he does. "-You were a stranger, and you didn't end up axe murdering me and Steve.", he reminds her.

Brock had found Courtney on Instagram after he and Steve's papers had come through, when he was looking for places that were renting close to campus; and she'd been looking for someone to make her grandparent's drafty split-level a little bit less lonely, the fact that all three of them were all gay a twist of fate that meant they had hung a huge rainbow flag from the upper balcony; and liked to pool the money in their swear jar into donations for the queer youth center at school.

"I haven't ended up axe murdering you- _yet_. Maybe I'm just fattening you two up."

Brock pulls up his shirt, flexing his abs while Courtney groans and covers her eyes. "Good luck."

"Old habits die hard, huh?"

He flips her off; and she smacks a hand against his chest.

"Okay, okay. Why don't you just text Vanessa for a pic? Just so you can see his face."

"Just so _you_ can judge my taste."

"Only because you have none. And besides, what are you gonna say if he's ugly? You'll have to text Vanessa and see her at school, and actually have to say "Sorry, I love you but your brother looks like a dirty sock."

Brock shook his head, grabbing his phone back out of her hands.

"Fine. And he's not gonna be ugly. Jeez. Vanessa's really cute, so I mean, even if they have different dads, I'm pretty sure he's gonna be cute, too."

"Is Vanessa gay?"

"No Court- she's very, _very_ straight."

"But if she _was_ gay, is she single?"

"You are such a pig.", Brock moans, as he fires off a quick text to Vanessa.

**7:56am**

**miss V <3**

hey rise and shine :P 

I hope this isn't weird but I was just wondering if I could get a pic of Jose?

i think we're gonna meet up tomorrow maybe and I totally don't want to be that guy who's like hey baby! and it's some random straight dude lol

or could you ask him to e-mail me back one?

-

" _-could you ask him to e-mail me back one?_ ", Courtney snickers. "Maybe when you guys get together he'll start sending you telegrams. Oh, when will my husband return from tech week for the dance program-"

" _Shut up!_ "

Brock's phone buzzes to life, and he almost can't swipe to open the message fast enough.

-

**7:57am**

gooooooooood morning

I guess we both had super boring nights we're both up at 8am yuck

haha

Yea for sure you can have a picture! Is this one okay? I just keep it in my wallet in case Jose's dumb ass goes missing lol

-

Brock double-taps on the photo; where he can see Vanessa's gold tipped nails at the borders, and he's guessing she's held up her phone right to the picture- Courtney leaning into him to get a better view; and even though he knows that he'll catch hell from her forever for it, he can't quite help the little sound that escapes from his lips. 

Jose is absolutely beautiful, his face still wide with baby fat; soft where Brock has been angular his whole life; his lips berry pink and juicy, curled up in a wide smile that shows all of his teeth, his bangs hanging lopsided over his left eyebrow. He's wearing a sleeveless shirt that looks like it might be blue or black, dotted with sparkling blue sequins at its high-necked collar; their sparkle matching the deep; warm brightness of caramel brown eyes that are looking up at the camera.

He's a little wider; and stocky unlike the boys who Brock had always watched from the wings at the ballet; but it's hard to tell, even after Courtney zooms in, how tall he really is. He must be little though, Brock thinks to himself, the fabric of his shirt stretched tight across the slim curve of his tiny waist. There's not much else they can see below that, except someone's arm draped over his tanned shoulders, wearing a blue bracelet that snaked up their wrist and arm. 

Brock blinks a couple of times, and then he remembers it from Jose's email. B-Boy Latin Devil- _of course_ \- Jose was a dancer, and the photo Vanessa had must have been of him at a performance. The picture she kept of him, would have been him in his happiest moment, and Brock knew that feeling well. 

He looks again; closer this time- calculating smaller details he had missed at first glance. The family resemblance is definitely there; the cut of his jaw just like his sister's, his eyes crinkling up in exactly the same way Vanessa's do, when she sends him little pictures of her in the mirror at the beauty salon where she's told him she works. 

Jose's eyes are filled with passion, and Brock feels an odd swell of pride for the boy he doesn't know at all yet, because they already have that much in common. He wonders if Jose's ruddy cheeks will be pink under the lights of a stage, if he'll undress him and feel familiar muscles bulge underneath his touch from the very same years of training, _or-_

" _Vanessa says this guy is a top?_ ", Courtney screams with laughter, having scrolled up in Vanessa and Brock's thread of texts. Squealing, she leaps over the back of the couch, and rushes down the stairs, Brock nearly tripping over himself to follow after her as she pounds on Steve's door, indifferent to how he must be doubtlessly hungover and still totally passed out.

" _Steve! Steve, wake the fuck up! Brock thinks this little guy is gonna fuck him!_ "

* * *

**10:30pm**

**To:** Brock H. [bhayhoe1@studenthub.mail] 

**From:** Bboy LatinDevil [bboylatindevil91@gmail.com]

**Subject: RE: [No Subject]**

Hi Brock :)

Don't worry, I knew you weren't a creep! Vanessa talks about you all the time, so I know you're cool. 

I can't wait to meet you, you seem great already. 

See you in class. I'll be in the back row as usual and V said she sent you a pic already so you should know what I look like. 

Love ya! We can do whatever after.

PS: Next time you don't need to use so many words. 

* * *

Brock has never had a boyfriend. 

For the longest time; he had thought it beyond him, happy that his sisters told him about their dates, pretending that he was annoying them so he could live a little slice of the fantasy that they all had been desperate to make their reality. 

But then his favorite sister had left, his brother following not far behind; leaving Brock facing his parents; who both look so worried, when he tells them that he's been accepted- not to the National Ballet School- but to a tiny theater's professional training program, buried deep between the desert and the strip. 

He takes his ticket with unmasked eagerness; riding on a bus so he can meet Steve in the city, and they both climb into Steve's car and start driving. 

(Sometime after they cross the border, Brock thinks that the feeling something is chasing him will fade.

He is seventeen and all alone, _finally._

So why does his heart beat faster; and why do his hands still shake when he steps up to buy he and Steve a pack of smokes from a truck stop?)

He's never really even liked a boy before he's met them; ending up in his dormitory bed before he knew their birthday; or their hometown- disappointed when he hesitates to take it beyond kissing; and angry when he starts to fuck them to shut them up and never calls them back afterwards; so it's not like he can be blamed for not knowing how it's supposed to feel. 

It's _nothing._

A _terrifying_ nothing; as he sees Jose in the back of the classroom, sitting so his legs are spread wide apart, one arm up on the desk as his fingers tap out a rhythm that only he can hear, bright red headphones resting on his hair; which is much thicker than Brock remembers from the picture Vanessa sent, a pure black that's never been touched with any color. He's much smaller than Brock had thought when he imagined a boy; so used to being just two inches or so taller than the boys who he had shared the barre with in this class earlier that morning; but so much... _brighter._

Jose is wearing a neon green sweatshirt; the cuffs rolled up to his wrists, and a pair of shorts that are so tiny underneath that _Courtney_ would have been reprimanded if she had worn them to school. 

Brock thinks he must have nice legs, he likes them- _doesn't he?_ A toasty; brown expanse of skin that stretches out underneath Jose's chair, ankles crossed where Brock can see his socks are the same shade of orange as the sun hanging in the very middle of the sky outside. . 

But, his brain is _blank-_ wordless as his legs move him forward; like a practiced pas de bourree; all the way to right beside Jose. 

It's just as well, because Jose doesn't notice him, his head bobbing along to the music until Brock taps his shoulder. 

"- _bitch- what you-_ "

He leaps out of his chair, the movement so exaggerated that Brock almost thinks of a grand jete across an empty stage; a burst of energy so big that he feels it knock into him, even though Jose at full height is still a full head shorter, on the tip-toes of his worn blue and white sneakers. 

"Hi.", Brock starts, letting himself show his teeth in a small smile. "Jose, right?" 

He looks lost for just a moment; his wide eyes so much more expressive when he's right there in front of Brock, thick, dark eyebrows angled upwards in surprise. 

"Yeah- _that's-_ ", he pauses to lick his lips, his tongue shooting out between his teeth, a little blossom of pink in the middle of his tanned, smooth face. 

( _Seductively?_ Maybe it's supposed to be; or maybe his lips are just as dry as Brock's throat.)

"The one and only. _Hello, Hello, Hello, Christine!_ ", he practically screams; and a few people in the rows at the front turn around to look as Brock's mouth drops open. Jose's voice is certainly something; and Brock can't imagine it's anything but _painful_ , sounding like a sore throat dropped several octaves; pitched to a screech- like a muppet who'd been kicked in the chest- his body so tiny and his skin so sun-kissed and soft that Brock's mind can't quite put the two together. 

"Um...- who's Christine?", he wonders aloud, blinking several times as Jose keeps babbling, pulling out a chair for Brock beside him. 

"Just a name, baby! Just any ol' bitch."

Yeah... _I'm Brock_ -", he starts again; not quite knowing what to say, as Jose burrows himself against the back of his chair and stares up at Brock with a moon-faced grin so wide that Brock can't help but match it. 

Courtney and Steve had always said that he came on too strong; and needed to be quiet when he was flirting with a boy. 

Quiet, and sweet. 

But Jose makes Brock desperately wish he had it in him to match him, uncurling his limbs so he can sit up straight in the chair; watching his eyes sparkle though his mouth seems like it's locked shut, blood rushing to his ears when Jose blinks. 

"You just quiet, huh, Brock? That's okay. You don't always need to be talkin' for it to count. 'Cause it's the conversationing that matters not the always running your mouth part." 

" _Conversationing?_ ",Brock repeats; giddy with relief that Jose is nice. He's loud and kind of weird; but he's so confident, and he's nice, most of all.

"Yeah. That's a word. 'Cause you know we all here gettin' educated, so a bitch gotta stay smart."

It takes him a moment to parse out what Jose is saying, but when he does, Brock nods along. "Are you sure that's a real word?"

Jose's real smile is dazzling, as he pushes his chair closer to Brock's, almost leaning right into his chest. 

"Yeah, duh. Trust me. If I say something, I got all the receipts. I always got the tea.", he says, decisive as he flips open his textbook. "I don't even read this whole bitch, 'cause I shoulda wrote it." 

"Really?" 

"Uh-huh. Why you laughin', huh?", Jose snaps, even though his eyes are filed with mirth and he just hasn't stopped smiling. 

(Maybe he never does. 

He seems happy for real, and Brock wishes he knew what that was like: to be _carelessly_ joyful all the time.)

Brock reaches across the table they're sharing, and clasps his hand over Jose's, guiding it down to flip the cover of the book.

"'Cause it's upside down.", he supplies, laughing at how utterly horrified Jose looks; his face paling so quickly that his fingers are an entire different shade from his cheeks. 

With him; Brock has already noticed- everything is so much _bigger_ , and Brock can already feel a little bit of warmth in his middle start to grow. 

After class lets out; Brock can't believe that he needed Vanessa to introduce him to Jose, unable to comprehend that he's missed him; his hand held up so high answering every question he's allowed to. 

Brock knows he can't pay attention very well; but he had never realized just how much you could miss, when you simply weren't looking for it- the realization also explaining why so many of his socks were mismatched and all migrated to the space behind Courtney's washing machine. 

"So what we doin', Mary?", he asks, his voice echoing down the hallway as they turn the corner, headed to Brock's locker to collect his wallet and his smokes. "I gotta car, I gotta license, and I gotta free afternoon so whatever you want; we open for business, baby!"

Brock's eyes widen; his ass most definitely not ready.

"I- ...I was actually thinking we could have lunch. I'm- really hungry.", he chokes out; hating how his voice drifts a little higher as he starts to spin his lock. Jose is leaning beside the water fountain, arms crossed across his chest; as if he's surveying Brock, deciding... _if he's worth it?_

_If he's okay?_

Brock's muscles lock across his back, forcing himself to straighten out, shoulders squared. Just like when he was on stage. 

If he can find his light, and his corners- he thinks to himself, the voice in his head sounding suspiciously like his old Russian ballet master- he can do anything. He could turn around and kiss Jose, deep and ravaging; against the faded brick wall behind them if he wanted to. 

But instead, he pops his phone out of his pocket; and fires off a quick text to Vanessa. 

Courtney would _punch_ him if she could see. 

Steve wouldn't even want to be _seen_ in the same hundred mile radius. 

**1:40pm**

**miss V <3**

hey :)

so operation jose is a GO

your whole family must be models lol! 

trying to decide on a lunch spot 

wanna wingman me? 

**1:42pm**

please

first impressions are everything! ;P

-

Another minute passes; and Vanessa doesn't text back. 

She must be in class; or at work, Brock realizes. 

_Shit._

Brock's just going to have to figure it out, like every other bad decision in his life; turning to face Jose and hoping he doesn't sound stupid. 

"Is ummm...-" 

_Fuck._

_Fuck._

_Fuck._

"You have a car right?", Brock asks, and Jose nods very eagerly. 

"Cool. Let's go get some yucca fries."

Jose is so excited; that he doesn't even bother to remind Brock that they're just two floors up from the food court. 

* * *

That day; they eat lunch together in front of the fountain; a secret fantasy that Brock has had since he first visited the campus; watching with sharp eyes as girls and boys spread their bodies out on blankets and wrapped themselves up in each other; feeling guilty and dirty and _stupid_ \- as he watched two girls kiss in the grass without so much as a second glance from anyone else. 

What about him, was so _disgusting_ that a boy would never cup his face and press their lips to his lashes; giggling as his hair brushed against collarbones? 

Jose had thrown down his backpack; laying his head against the cushioned back, hair splayed out like the rays of the sun in Brock's childhood drawings. He always crosses his ankles; like a girl would, and Brock thinks it's insanely cute. 

_Already._

Jose's taken his phone out of his backpack pocket; which is a little surprising; so Brock doesn't hesitate asking, as he folds his body down on the grass beside him. 

"Vanessa said you phone didn't work. Did you fix it?" 

" _Uh-"_ Jose tenses up a little bit; but ends up showing the screen to Brock anyway; a level of trust that Brock has barely reached with Steve, and only has with Courtney because she's a _girl_. 

"WiFi still works and that's free! Got my Facebook Messages and there's a whole shit load of Pokemon all over here. Don't need nothing else, especially 'cause this town is Pokemon central. 'Sides, the camera's super nice so I wasn't gonna throw it out." 

"You're still on Facebook?", Brock asks, more than a little surprised. "Isn't that like...for Moms?"

"Yeah, duh! I like talking to my friends in people- face-to-face type a' tea. But my Mom says she gotta have a way to stay in touch and stuff. So she got me and...Vanessa on there in the group chat telling us to buy...-uh, bread." 

"Bread?" 

"Yes, bitch! We a full-gluten household!", Jose yells over the noise of the courtyard; and Brock is sure that the warm sun above them isn't the only thing making him feel so hot. 

He's leaning against the cool stone of the fountain; shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. "You're really close to your family, right? It's just you and Vanessa?" 

"I have two older brothers.", Jose mumbles through a mouth full of his fries; his eyes widening despite how bright it is around them. 

"No way! So do I! Well, I have two older sisters and an older brother, so it's pretty much the same!"

Jose pulls himself up, leaning forward with his elbows on top of his knees. "For real? Must have been super cramped up in there then- we got a two-bedroom and we still sharing...me and um, Vanessa." 

"We-", Brock stops himself. "I actually don't know if I could do that. I left home when I was fifteen and moved down here a couple years later. I haven't even seen anyone for like...since the last president, I'm pretty sure." 

Jose is incredulous, unable to imagine what that must have been like. He and his mom still have breakfast together on most days, even if it’s not totally normal, they’re each other’s best friends. 

She even loves Vanessa, who Jose’s trying hard not to think of; and did Silky’s makeup once while they watched TV, just for fun. 

“Did they kick you out? For being-” 

“Nah. I started training with the repertory theater here, and I just didn't go home. They just disagree with my lifestyle, I guess? So I just don’t come home for Christmas. It’s not a whole big deal.” 

“You don’t go home for _Christmas_?" 

Jose can hardly hide his shock, a little bit of cheese sauce dribbling down his chin. 

"Nope." 

It's quiet; for just a few seconds, as Jose chews thoughtfully, teeth crunching against the fries. 

"That's cool. My dad left on Christmas and I guess he don't come home either. So you a real _man_ man, huh.", he laughs, winking at Brock, who chuckles- if a little bit hesitantly. 

_Was everything supposed to be moving so fast?_

"Isn't that what you want?", Brock jokes, waggling his eyebrows and watching as Jose's cheeks stretch into a smile. "A _man_?"

 _"Ooooh, child_ \- we in public.", he mutters; but doesn't stop himself from stretching out onto his front; his head resting on Brock's thigh; so his hand can settle to stroke his hair. 

Brock combs his fingers through the front of his bangs; and Jose treats him to a little noise of absolute delight. 

Brock is _speechless_. 

" _Hey Papi_.", he teases; knowing this is what Steve used to call his boyfriend before they broke up; tipping up Jose's chin so his clear, dark eyes stare up at Brock's. 

" _Mind if I do?_ ", he asks, dipping his head to press their lips together. 

Jose just shakes his head against the scratchy fabric of Brock's jeans. "'Course not." 

When he returns the kiss, his tongue pressing softly into Brock's mouth; he knows he's _falling._

* * *

The next few weeks blur together in Brock's memories; where Jose taking him to the bowling alley turns into the two of them in line at a CVS; buying band-aids to stick over his scraped knees and elbows; bleeding freely from when he threw himself halfway down the line screaming at Brock to make sure he got a strike on camera. 

(He sends Vanessa a picture of her teary-eyed, squeamish brother in the driver's seat of his car; because she'll probably find it funny or cute; hating that Vanessa's work schedule has changed- because it means they barely have time for their long; fun talks together. 

She's still one of his best friends, though- because she replies with the heart eyes emoji and a laughing one while Jose is in the bathroom washing up.)

Jose tells Brock he can blow smoke rings; pulling the wet cigarette from his mouth and puffing out a huge cloud of white smoke instead; but like always, Brock can't help but love him for it, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pressing Jose's body into his chest. 

They sit in class together; moving up a few rows from the back so that Jose doesn't have to talk so loudly- because he does most of the talking in that class anyway; always looking over to Brock for his approval. 

As if Brock is _smart._

Almost every day; they have lunch together; kissing in front of the fountain with their chests pressed together, beyond Brock's absolute wildest dreams; and almost too quickly, he starts to learn his boyfriend's language: what makes him himself- little facts that Brock catalogs away for his birthday; and if they have an anniversary. 

Jose loves sushi; and he can eat more of it than Brock even though he's so much smaller. 

Jose (and Vanessa, too Brock guesses) learned English from every Nickleodeon cartoon from the 90's that ended up getting put on public access. They don't even speak Spanish anymore really, except with their mom. 

Jose was on the dance team in high school; and is pretty sure that he would have worked harder; not having to circle back for what all their condescending teachers call a victory lap, if he had stayed in Florida. 

He tells Brock this one day; showing him a video on his phone when they're sitting on the hood of Jose's car in the parking lot; with absolutely no emotion behind his voice; and Brock is shocked. 

Jose was actually _good;_ and Brock knows people who are _good_ don't just give up. 

"But...if it was your... _thing_ , I guess- why _didn't_ you just stay? Live with a friend or something?", he has to know; thinking of taping together bleeding toes and standing outside at freezing cold bus stops in the middle of the night; his body wracked with pain every day just so he could do what he _loved_.

"I guess other stuff just seemed more important then. You know, when you turn eighteen and still got like two years left, there's people and stuff who are more important until...they're _not_... or it's all not, I guess."

"How'd you have two years left when you were eighteen?" 

"'Cause I'm a in-real-life dumbass. Even got a doctor's note for it." 

"You are not.", Brock chuckles, wondering why Jose's not returning his warm smile like he always does.

"Am too.", he sighs, sticking out his tongue. 

Brock just shakes his head. 

"Do you still do it though?" 

"Do what?" 

"Dance?" 

Jose just shrugs, the fabric of his bright blue long-sleeved t-shirt bunching up around tiny shoulders as he swings his bare legs against the headlights. 

"Yeah. Sometimes, I guess. It's weird, right- you feel like a whole different person when you're doing it. Like you, but _better_." 

Brock nods. "Yeah, totally." 

"Damn, you a ballerina bitch, right? Shit, how the fuck'd I forget that? Is that kinda the same deal?" 

"Ah-" 

Brock pauses; thinking of how Jose hadn't stopped smiling during their entire number. "Kind of. But different. I loved it anyway." 

"So then why'd _you_ quit?", Jose asks in a sing-song voice, turning Brock's question back around on him. 

"Injuries, I guess? I wrecked my body and I was always fucked in the head, so... yeah."

"You seem fine to me." 

"Like you're a good judge.", Brock laughs, despite himself, earning a solid, but soft smack to the center of his chest. 

"Hey, I tell it like it is!" 

"Sure."

Jose sticks his phone back into the pocket of his shorts; tapping at where Brock's is in his pocket. 

"You know this is a you show me yours I show you mine type a' situation. _C'mon Brock; lemme see you in the tutu_." 

Brock would be _insulted_ if it had been anyone else; but instead, he grasps Jose's hand tightly in his to stop him from moving. 

"I can do one better. I have free lifelong tickets to every show at the rep. Be ready at five-thirty and pick me up at Courtney's."

* * *

**4:45pm**

**miss V <3**

where the fuck is jose

**4:46pm**

getting ready

he said he had to pick u up at 5, it was literally just 4:30 there's a whole hour dude chill 

**4:46pm**

it's almost 5 and we have to be early 

**4:47pm**

is the show sold out? you have tickets right?

**4:47pm**

yes but

ugh

_4:48pm_

btw whats jose wearing 

**4:50pm**

something blue ;)

* * *

Steve's not quite sure what to expect when a late model Prius pulls up in Courtney's driveway; the silver side door dented inwards where it looked like someone had hit it; and whoever was driving had never bothered to get it fixed. The driver's side door opens; and he sees it's that little kid from Brock's class; who Brock hasn't shut up about for what feels like _forever_.

Then again; Brock's never been as _excited_ as he is now; rifling through both he and Steve's closets, trying to find something that will match with blue. 

The kid is definitely wearing _blue-_ blue; his blazer made of royal blue crushed velvet, wearing navy slacks and gray and white oxfords. Steve's pretty sure he can smell the spicy perfume through their open window, and has to take his phone out of his pocket and snap a quick picture as Brock's first and only ever _boyfriend_ climbs up the front stairs two at a time.

This is who has his best friend's heart; and Steve's not concerned really... more _amused_ as he starts to ring the doorbell. 

"Hi! Is this where Brock lives?", he asks, the moment Steve throws open the door and finds that he's got to look down at an angle to meet... _what was his name?_.. _.Jose's_ eyes. 

"Yep, you the client?", he jokes, but it obviously flies right over Jose's head; as his eyes narrow and he squints to look behind Steve to see if Brock is there. 

"He's just getting his wallet and stuff, right?", Steve shouts down the stairs. 

"Right!", Courtney replies, which is more than good enough for him. 

Soon enough, Brock is rushing down the stairs; the pants on Steve's tux set far too short; and cuffed above his ankles like he's one of the kids in an Easter catalog. It would be funny, if Steve couldn't see how panicked he was; blocking Jose's body unconsciously from watching as Courtney reminds him to breathe, and slips a couple of condoms in his pockets; before shoving him in Jose's direction past Steve's broad back in the door frame. 

"Love you! _Hope y'all fuck!_ ", she shouts down the driveway; as the two of them scramble back into Jose's car. 

* * *

Brock remembers the theater like he remembers his childhood home; every place where he could duck into for a moment to himself burned into his memory, as Jose's smaller hand is gripped tightly in his; their arms swinging a little bit as they rush through the red and gold carpeted halls where Brock remembers having his first kisses; getting his first principal roles, cracking open a bottle of beer with his best friend at the school, Angela with a bottle opener that his father had sent him for Christmas one year, when he'd stayed in Angela's spare bedroom and told his parents that he was in every date of the Nutcracker; and absolutely wasn't allowed to leave.

They've spruced up since he's been gone, the old graying walls that he remembers running his fingers against while he and Angela would open their pockets and show off how many smokes they had bummed from the older dancers; power-washed and bearing a fresh coat of opalescent paint, which glitters just the right amount underneath the orange and yellow chandelier lights.

He's never noticed; how beautiful it all was, from the outside.

"Where're we goin', boo?", Jose is laughing and he's unbuttoned his jacket already; the blue velvet blazer that would have been obnoxious on anyone else fitted so well to his waist.

Brock imagines what it would be like to undress him, to run his tongue down the skin between his collarbones and down his hips.

"Just wait."

He leads them down an old service hallway; the memory of the very first time he had kissed a boy there still as fresh as the bluster on Jose's cheeks. He's just a little bit out of breath; and Brock realizes that he must have been walking faster to keep up.

But he's still grinning; his eyes bright as he blows out a breath that floats the hair that's fallen in front of his eyes back up his forehead.

"It's in here.", Brock tells him, pulling him by the arm through what looks like just another one of the dozens of gray-white doors they've sped past on the way.

The room inside is still dark, as Brock fumbles against the wall to find the switch.

When he does, Jose gasps.

" _Holy shit._ Real Cinderella tea... _Bitch-_ you could be spying on every ho from up here-", he squeals, running ahead so half of his body is hanging off of the ornate balcony that dangles them over the empty orchestral pit below, and Brock knows he isn't lying; every velour seat illuminated by the lights bouncing from the crystal chandelier just in front of the stage.

"Uh-huh.", he mutters into Jose's hair, following after him so he can dip his head to press his lips against his boyfriend's cheek. "It's a private donor's suite."

"Who that?"

"You- you want the donor's name?", Brock wondered aloud. "I don't know actually- wait- you mean what a private donor's suite is? It just means that they're really big fans, so they get to watch from up here.", he says with a decisive nod.

Jose still looks puzzled, and Brock shakes his head.

"It means there's no cameras."

"Well, bitch-... _you could'a just said so._ "

Brock wraps his arms around his boyfriend, forearms resting on his shoulders, pulling him away from the balcony, back towards the plush sofas facing the stage in the suite.

He tilts his face up to kiss him properly, letting Jose fall into the navy blue cushions; straddling his body. Brock's on his knees, his hips bucking up against Jose's chest, an arm resting on the back of the sofa bracing him so he's not fully falling into his boyfriend- at least not yet.

Jose must know what he's doing, because his hands have already snaked up into Brock's shirt, hot against his chest, not bothering to unbutton his shirt- and as one of the buttons pops off underneath his knuckles, with no intention to either.

"Hey, papi- _whoa, there._ ", Brock laughs a little, catching Jose's hand against his chest. "I want you to wreck me, not my shirt."

"-I'mma buy you another one. Don't worry 'bout that."

His hands slip out of Brock's shirt anyway, the light pressure of the thin bones of his wrists feeling delightful as they slide against Brock's chest.

"But we do it your way. Your place, your way, your everything 'cause I'm open for business and business is 24/7 three hundred and sixty fucking five days of the whole ass year but don't you take that too serious 'cause a man gotta eat-", Jose whoops; and Brock can't understand what he means, or even try to pretend to; because his lips are soft and slightly swollen, dark pink against his five o-clock shadow, and Brock can't resist; taking his face between his hands and kissing the absolute fuck out of his boyfriend.

Jose's breath is hot, and he tastes like cinnamon and salted chocolate; all of the snacks they had eaten from the vending machine outside mixed up in his wonderful; sweet mouth.

He's unbuttoned Brock's shirt, his fingers pulling down at the waistband of his pants; the buckle of his belt popped open and his thumb threaded through the silver clasp, and Brock can feel himself growing hard as Jose's thumbs press against the muscles just below his hips.

"You ready, babe?", Jose whispers as they break to catch their breath.

"Uh-huh."

Brock is flush with excitement; his ass most definitely ready for the thorough fucking he expects from his gorgeous, gregarious boyfriend.

Brock's hands rest lightly on Jose's slim shoulders, pushing him gently back against the cushions as he pressed his lips together, popping his tongue loudly in the dimmed light.

"You gonna make sure I stay in one place, huh.", he laughed, eyes half-closed in bliss.

"Someone's got to, roadrunner.", Brock says, patting his thigh just above his knee. Jose's body is buzzing; and Brock can feel his muscles pulsing underneath the soft, brushed, fabric of his navy slacks.

Jose hums against him, pressing up against Brock's touch, as his hands move to start undoing the top buttons of Jose's shirt, his fingers pressing against the skin of his collarbones. The fabric must be expensive; feeling creamy underneath Brock's fingertips as he works on the top two buttons, the perfect wrapping for the doubtlessly beautiful present underneath-

"- Wait- wait- Brock- _stop._ "

Brock's blood runs cold suddenly, his boyfriend's breathless words echoing in the room around them.

" _Stop._ ", he repeats, pushing himself up against the sofa, wriggling away from Brock's grasp, his eyes blown wide what looks like fear; and fills Brock with so much shame he nearly starts crying right there; his shirt unbuttoned and his pants almost down past his cock.

"Sorry- sorry. Oh, my God. Hey, look at me.", he sputters, crawling over the couch cushions between them, surprised to find that he can still place his palm against Jose's cheek, and not have him flinch away. "I'm sorry. God- I...- We don't have to do anything, okay?"

He can feel Jose's jaw clench underneath his touch, and shame floods through him immediately; hating that he's made him feel like this. He's ruined their night; and maybe ruined everything they have, pressing down on a bruise that must still hurt a lot, if Jose's reaction is anything to go by.

It's almost like he can feel his mind whirring; eyes locking to Brock's with his pupils wide and searching.

Brock desperately wishes that he could make it _okay._

"Hey...babe...it's not like that. It ain't that deep.", Jose says, a little awkwardly, his voice gravelly and dry.

" _What-_...?"

"It ain't that deep-", Jose says again, nodding as though that would make Brock understand. "I just been skipping out on some of my workouts. Been a busy bee bitch and trying to get more IQ points and just eating everything, so you know- I be lookin' like...spoiled mayo, tea. Disgusting and shit."

Brock blinks.

"You _what_ -...?"

Jose shakes his head and pulls up his shirt, just underneath his nipples revealing his chest and stomach, a little belly poking out above the top button of his pants. Brock can still see the cut of his hips, even though they're a little softer; hyper-aware of exactly how he's so tiny that his hand can probably wrap all the way around from his hip bones to his back; even if he doesn't have the washboard abs of the boys who they're going to see on stage, or _their_ thick, muscular asses. 

"And my dick _do_ be stunning, but you gotta dive the whole dumpster through to be there, and there's all kinds a' shit, back rolls, side rolls, dick rolls, I mean, I dunno. Pretty sure I even have fat balls."

Brock is grinning a little, despite the absolute seriousness of the entire situation, never used to how truly ridiculous Jose could be. How many words he could put together; all making absolutely no sense but somehow sounding so correct coming out of his mouth, like his own special language that was just for Brock to understand perfectly. How his eyes are so clear and wide and beautiful; his face so open and his lips so soft, and he still can't see how utterly perfectly he is.

"I don't think so."

"Well, you ain't seen 'em.", Jose sputters, and he doesn't look very angry; or afraid anymore at all, which Brock supposes is good.

He's cast in the blue-gray light of the chandelier; and Brock loves that the beams don't cut into the hollows of his cheeks, his face still tender and childlike and not at all like the boys who Brock remembers kissing and fucking in this very suite; all long limbs and hard angles; skinny from the cigarettes and the stress and the stage lights being too hot and bright; who would have never let him see them biting down on the inside of their cheeks, their chests taking careful, measured breaths half-underneath the couch cushions.

"Well...yeah-...but I want to."

"You wanna look at my balls? Bitch- _the fuck_ -"

"Only if you'll let me. I kind of want to...- make sure that you're not just seeing things. Ange told me the theater's haunted."

Jose ducks his head; but Brock can see him fighting down a smile. 

"I'm not sayin' no...okay? _I'm not saying no-_ I just... well, we all got expectations, Mary. But I seen the type of guys you used to...- and I just don't want you all surprised and shit 'cause I ain't looking like some 90's supermodel like you all do.", he says; far quieter than Brock is used to him being, glancing towards the stage.

"Why do you think that matters to me?", Brock whispers; letting his fingers rest against Jose's cheek.

"'Cause it matters to everybody."

"Not if they love you. I love you."

"You serious?"

"Definitely."

He lets his hands float down; fingers carefully slipping the pearl-white buttons closed at Jose's collar, fingertips running down the contours of his chest underneath the placket.

"I want to show you...", Brock murmurs, leaning himself forward so he can wrap his arms around his boyfriend, and pull him close into his chest, tightening his embrace in a way that he hopes is comforting, relieved to feel him melting into Brock's touch.

"But only if _you'll_ let me."

"Uh-huh."

"Just one rule. You keep this on.", Brock tells him, smoothing out the fabric of Jose's shirt where it's wrinkled across the front. "I don't want to get distracted...and I want you to be- um, comfortable. And feel just... - just as handsome as you are." Brock licks his lips. "Yeah, that's it. I want you to feel just what I do, too."

"What's that?"

"That I like you."

Jose cracks a wicked grin, and Brock can feel his heart soar. "Thought you said you loved me."

"But I _like_ you, too."

* * *

Brock is _gentle_ ; in a way that Jose had always saved for his most private, most _shameful_ , fantasies- thinking it impossible for any man on earth to catch his wrists and pin him down with the barest, slightest pressure, rubbing against him with a delicious friction that leaves Jose nothing short of mewling- a low sound in the back of his throat gurgling up as he nuzzles into the side of Brock's neck.

Brock's lips and teeth are catching against his skin, probably leaving marks where Jose only feels a tiny pricking bloom into a second's worth of a little bit of a firework; a tiny, fading pain that follows down his stomach and hips, Brock's fingers following down his middle, making sure each of the buttons of his shirt stay closed.

When Brock backs off of him, the feeling of sheer terror that he would have ripped down his shirt and seen Vanessa's tattoo splayed across his chest returns; a brief hiccup that's caught in Jose's chest, burning in the spots where Brock's plump, reddened lips had suckled at his skin.

He hadn't really thought he was fat; at least not for the past few months since he had been home; but it was old excuse and a much older habit, and Jose couldn't help falling back into the strangely familiar comfort of his body being the best excuse he had for how many things went wrong because of his mind.

If he had been _Brock;_ sinking down on his knees on the carpet before Jose, tossing his already opened shirt aside; all creamy skin stretched tight over heaving muscles, his golden hair sticking to his forehead as his tongue darted out from between a wicked grin- maybe _Vanessa_ wouldn't have needed to exist at all.

He would have been everything she was; without having to change a single thing.

Brock's massive hands are resting on Jose's knees, spreading his thighs; and it's easy for him to get the point, fingers moving to open his own belt buckle and leaning eagerly forward; raising his ass to help get his slacks and jockstrap down; the elastics sliding easily down his legs as Jose wriggled towards Brock, whose thumbs had hooked in his belt loops as he pulled them down.

"You good?", Brock breathes out, diving in to brace himself against the backs of Jose's legs, the wet line of his pink tongue dragging up the inside of his thigh to the underside of his cock; which presses against Brock's cheek as Jose's brain nearly short-circuits from the sheer, sweet pleasure of it.

"Yeah, yeah of course."

"Good."

He can't stop his body from bucking to meet Brock; as he goes in for another long lick before teasing at the blood-flushed, dark head of Jose's cock with the tip of his soft tongue.

" _Holy shit, Christine-_ " Jose moans, hands clenching at the plush material of the couch.

Brock is breathy; his quiet laughter warm over the saliva-slicked skin, rubbing his free hand back up Jose's thigh as he digs in his back pocket for the condom he had swiped from the little bowl of them by the mirror in the dancers' dressing room when he had taken Jose for the tour.

"Almost forgot.", he chuckles, relieved Jose can't see his face redden with pure embarrassment at how awkward it must all be; to have his long, cool, fingers fumbling to slide it up over his boyfriend's thick, hardening cock. "Still up for this?"

"I ain't say no yet."

Jose is praying to Jesus as he grabs a handful of Brock's curls; wet with sweat just at his hairline; pushing the tip of his cock against Brock's lips, which open to take him in; his blue-green eyes half-shut as he licks and sucks; long swirling licks to the head, deeper and deeper spirals that flick back up to lap at his tip; forcing Jose's legs to spread wider and his nails to dig in to the velour fabric and cling; before he loses it completely.

Thank God Brock can't see his eyes water, as his rhythm changes to match an almost imperceptible shift in Jose's hips; the muscles re-calibrating themselves to fit against Brock's steady arms holding him in place.

Thank God Brock can't hear his heart beating too fast; can't know how much Jose hates the feeling of the flesh between his thighs jiggling as Brock's hands squeeze his ass cheeks, speeding them towards a sure conclusion he wants to reach, but hasn't decided if he really likes the journey to at all, because Brock would hate him if-

" _Thank fucking God-_ " Jose breathes, eyes wide open as he forces himself to look down.

_Eyes on the prize._

_Eyes on the_ fucking _prize._

Brock glances up at him and gives him a sly smile; all the way around his mouthful before dipping his head to take Jose as deep as he can in one slow; surely practiced movement that leaves the head of his cock nudging at the back of Brock's throat as it tightens a little, Brock swallowing against him against him as his tongue plays against the underside of Jose's cock.

"Watch me," he says, voice a little rough. "Eyes _open_."

He thinks he's so slick, like Brock doesn't know his own talents; doesn't remember the moans and the begging from the boys of years past in this very room. Looking up at Jose through the gold-thread curtains of his lashes and his hair; he watches his boyfriend struggle; his senses overloaded with the decision between simply receiving pleasure, and seeking it out for himself.

Brock wants to see his eyes, his cheeks; the way his hair can't decide whether it will fall to the left or the right of his forehead; startled to realize that Jose is the very first boy whose bliss he craves more than his own enjoyment.

Brock wants to see him smiling; mouth open in climax; chest stuttering with ragged, blissful breath.

He needs to see Jose, skin damp as he falls back into Brock's arms when this is all over; but more than that, he needs to keep his promise. He needs Jose to know that he doesn't want to be anywhere in the world, besides right here.

For _only_ him. 

His hand arcs up to guide his boyfriend's hand back to the nape of his neck, forcing his smaller fingers down there, relieved that Jose's fingers twist into his hair; so he must want it just as much. His boyfriend's solid cock is a luscious treat; and while Brock knows that he'll never be able to explain all of this, he knows that Jose understands, maybe even better than he ever will, his experience showing as he thrusts up into Brock's mouth- matching the push of his hips to a fevered grind as he watches Brock's cheeks hollow while he sucks.

Jose's fingers tighten in his hair, and Brock can't help but whimper, as he bears down a little harder, shamelessly fucking Brock's face.

_Oh._

He _gets_ it.

_How could Brock have ever thought he wouldn't understand?_

His arms uncurl from around Jose's thighs; plump and delicious as the rest of him, skin scented with spice; as Brock snakes his free hand around to tease at his balls; drawn up tight where Brock wants nothing more than to see them hang heavy before his eyes; as beautiful and lush as he's been dreaming of. Jose seems to hesitate for a moment, especially as Brock squeezes a little, making him ride up harder against the back of Brock's raw throat; tugging hard at his hair as something even warmer fills the slick latex in his mouth.

Perhaps; he was used to being sucked dry; but Brock wouldn't have been sure, the flush of Jose's cheeks filling him with pure; hot pleasure as he pops off the top of his dick; wiping at the spit that's collected under his chin as Jose's legs buckle and he slumps back again the couch cushions, panting a little bit, clearly spent as his half closed eyes barely dart around the room as Brock goes to kick open one of the cabinets; where he knows that the suite keeps stacked boxes of soft, expensive paper towels.

He's careful as he helps Jose clean off, buzzing in a way that makes him extra sensitive, his boyfriend's smallest movements seeming so much more as he melts into the attention Brock is paying him, kissing at his thighs as he wipes him off, bracing his hand against the small of his back as Brock helps him get dressed again.

"Did you... _like it_?", he asks, finally- apprehensive since Jose has never been so silent for so long, even if it's only been a few minutes, according to the neon numbers from the digital clock above the door.

 _Maybe I'm not as good anymore_ , Brock wonders, his hand clenching nervously into a fist by his side.

" _What kinda ho don't like gettin' they dick sucked?_ ", he shouts, his voice as triumphant and joyful as Brock is beginning to know it must always be, and he shakes his head, anxiety dissipating as he lets himself drink in Jose's cheerful smile.

"You're... _really_ strong...by the way.", he says, reaching for Jose's hand and squeezing it tightly, grinning as Jose's blush deepens.

" _Thanks-_ ", he starts. "You... _take it_ really well."

"Mhmm...did you mean you wanted a round two?", Brock teases, watching his eyes widen as he considers the offer.

"I mean... _I meant_...I know you'll take it well. But you know... you gotta tell your ass to start getting itself in shape. All that ass training camp for the pussy, 'cause you know, you gotta stick around to see it happen, 'cause I don't know when it's gonna happen but you know- I'mma make it happen for sure.", Jose rambles, and Brock just squeezes his hand tighter despite himself.

"Oh, you know...- I like to be prepared for anything.", he jokes; hardly noticing how Jose seems to tense up a little at that, as he glances back at the time hanging over the door, slipping his arm back around Jose's waist, where it seems like it's starting to belong, drawing their bodies closer together, drinking in his scent as his head falls against Brock's chest.

They settle into their seats in the center box; the suite looming above them for the show; and Brock swears that there's not a moment that Jose isn't stuck to his side; hands gripped together; familiar and comfortable and overwhelming all at once. 

* * *

**12:47am**

**miss v <3**

vanessa

hey

I don't know if you're still up right now, but if you are, or whenever you see this can you do me a favor?

Can you tell Jose I really, really love him?

**12:49am**

omg why don't you tell him yourself?

we're close but that's a little bit much...

did something happen to you guys? jose just got home a while ago and he's fine

he said you guys had a really good night together.

**1:02am**

I did already!

I promise it's not like that!

I just

**1:02am**

???

just what?

**1:07am**

Sorry, I was just getting into my house. courtney and steve are asleep already

I already told him I love him, I just forgot to say it again when he dropped me off.

**1:08am**

You can't wait until tomorrow?

lol awwwww :P

**1:08am**

I just want him to know now. I really love him and he's amazing.

If he doesn't believe me, he doesn't have to, I guess. But I'd just like for him to know.

He doesn't have to be perfect.

He's amazing already.

**1:09am**

I'm pretty sure you already know all this lol

**1:10am**

you can just show him this text because I just read all of that and it's kind of awkward if you had to say it all

**1:12am**

oh now you think it's awkward ;)

**1:13am**

hahahahahaha

will you just let him know though?

**1:13am**

lol of course :P

**1:15am**

okaaaaaaaay

jose says he loves you too.

he says thanks, and it means a lot.

* * *

Several weeks later, they’re lying tangled up in Jose’s sheets, staring up at his ceiling, where a fan is whirring in circles, and Brock _hates_ it, the buzzing of air against metal making him want to bang his head against a wall, but Jose insists that it’s too hot, even though he’s stripped down to just his boxers and a t-shirt.

Brock wishes it was just his briefs, and longs to run his tongue against his boyfriend’s nipples, and feel his chest underneath his teeth. His heartbeat, his skin that runs too warm and the soft flesh around his ribs.

But Brock wants him to feel _beautiful_ , and so he doesn’t mind waiting.

Besides, they kiss plenty, and Jose doesn’t mind other things. Brock never thought he’d say he loved to suck dick and eat ass, or have himself stroked hard in the backseat of Steve's white jeep; but Jose makes the most beautiful little noises, and has a smile that looks like pure light to Brock, anyway.

(Even if he has a piece of lettuce stuck between his teeth.)

They’re supposed to be working on a project for their Skills class (and for once in his life, Brock hasn't had to wait until the teacher points him in the direction of a fellow unfortunate to have a partner) but Jose has flipped his book open, and chosen to lay on top of Brock’s chest instead, his warm weight and steady breathing more than enough to distract Brock from how the big poster-board flow chart they're supposed to be working on; that's supposed to show how food goes from a farm to a table.

Brock hates the class- any of his classes, really, that force him to sit still for what feels like hours, teasing him with wide open windows revealing the courtyard below, where there are little kids cutting through to go to the food court from the middle school, women who run laps around the fountain, even guys he vaguely recognizes, with their shirts off tossing around a football in the sunshine.

 _It must be bad if the gay dude would rather be playing football_ , he thinks to himself, but ever since he and Jose have started having class together, it's all gotten a little bit easier to focus on him instead; the way that he folds up into his chair, his chin resting on his knees whenever he's really interested in what the professor is saying, or how his eyes dart around the room and get distracted, staring at the cheesy posters or all of the pins on a backpack hanging from the back of a girl's desk ahead of them, when he's bored.

Sometimes; he'll put up his hand and start up on some bullshit, and sometimes people turn around and listen, but most of the time, they just keep their heads down, watching Netflix or porn or their phones in their laps, but Brock can feel the absolute confidence that radiates from just beside him, and can't help but feel proud of Jose when the teacher nods along with him and puts what he's just said on the board.

(Brock doesn't remember if it was _always_ like this, but he can't imagine a world where Jose's not loud and wild and _so_ funny- and feels so guilty that he'd missed all of that before they had gotten to know each other. 

One day, the teacher says that it's good to see him working so hard, and actually studying the readings in the syllabus and doing his homework, and contributing to their class, and he looks so happy that Brock doesn't say that she must be a _real_ bitch, not to notice that he always had.

Even though their class is bigger, Brock wonders how she could have missed the best student there for almost a whole semester.)

Jose's eyes are starting to grow heavy, his lush, gorgeous lashes shadowing his cheek as he struggles to keep himself awake.

"Wanna take a nap, big guy?" he asks, gently carding a hand through his boyfriend's hair.

"Okay."

He's so lucky, and he'll never deserve it.

Never deserve the way that he almost purrs, curling further into Brooke's chest, his soft cheek warm and smooth against the skin there.

He's never going to deserve being this happy, and all he wants is for Jose to feel this safe forever.

With him?

_Maybe._

Jose's phone buzzes from where he had tossed it under the pillow, and Brock doesn't even think twice before grabbing it.

"Your friend- uhhh, _Coco? Cucu?_ You made the vowels the peach butt emoji...well, they say that... _Alexis says your gown is ready-?_ Wait, what- how do you get texts if your number doesn't work?"

Jose shoots up like he's just been electrocuted; his huge eyes wide open as Brock starts to read the text.

" _Bitch_ , what the hell?", he practically screams, smacking Brock's chest with his open palm as he tries to grab for the phone. "You can't just fucking take people's phones. What the fuck raised your ass? The jungle? Are you a raised by the baboon from the lion king type a' bitch?"

" _There wasn't a baboon in the Lion King-_ ", Brock starts, his boyfriend's anger taking just a moment to long to hit him properly. Jose got heated about everything, screaming at the TV and the drivers on the road; and his locker when the door jammed closed, and the lights when they were too bright in the food court at school.

Usually, it didn't mean a thing.

Today, though, Jose's shoving Brock backwards off the bed, leaving him to stumble on the hardwood as their things spill all over the floor.

"What the _fu_ -"

His phone's been knocked from Brock's hand, lying on the rug underneath his bed, beside the markers and notebooks that have flown from the blanket that he angrily tosses into a corner of the bedroom.

" _What the fuck?_ What the fuck do you get to say that, bitch? You come up in here and start looking in my shit like you know me or some shit. You acting like we married, like we got that _social privilege_ shit 'cause I let you suck my dick? What the fuck kind of raggedy ass thirsty motherfucker are you?"

His face is flushed; but Brock thinks it's still a little bit cute, how he starts waving his hands around and kicking at the things on the floor.

Until he gets a look at Jose's eyes; their gorgeous, deep chocolate brown obscured by white hot rage.

He isn't just being _dramatic_.

He's truly _livid_.

Brock holds up his hands in front of him, backing away a little. Jose's not really scary, but maybe he'll understand that they're not going to get anywhere if he's yelling like someone's just kicked his puppy- and maybe he'll see Brock be a little apprehensive, and he'll chill out so they can talk about it.

"Hey- _I didn't mean_ \- I'm sorry, okay? I just thought you were sleeping and I thought I could tell you later. Or... I dunno, wake you up if it was important I guess. Maybe it was your Mom or Vanessa and something happened."

He shrugs as if that'll help them; but the moment that he mentions _Vanessa,_ his boyfriend seems like he's full-on _possessed_.

"I don't care. Just get the _fuck_ out.", Jose seethes, flicking Brock his shirt from the bed.

"But-...we still have to get the poster done. I said I was sorry."

"What the _hell_ makes you think I give a fuck if you're sorry?"

Jose is kicking at the mess on the floor, tossing Brock's things into his backpack, not caring much that he's crumpled the covers of his notebooks, or left his markers uncapped at the bottom of the bag, leaving stains that already seep through the fabric there, where Brock realizes with a start; he'd left his hoodie.

His _favorite_ red hoodie, ruined, as the felt tips of the Sharpies that he and Jose had been using to write on their poster soaked their colors into one of the _only_ things that he'd taken with him from home.

" _What-_ "

"I said get _out_. This ain't your house anyway. _Get the fuck out_."

Brock knows he'll regret it, even before he strides across the room and snatches his backpack away, glowering at his boyfrie- _his project partner-_ who clearly has a fucking _problem_.

" _What is wrong with you?_ "

His voice is low; and calm, each word grinding with a barely concealed anger as he watches Jose kick a pillow against his closet.

He's so _childish_.

He thinks he's funny when all Brock can remember is that he's _annoying_.

He _never_ stops talking and he can't just bottle up his emotions like a normal person- because he's _not_ a normal fucking person, and Brock should know, since he's fucked up enough that he shouldn't have to deal with Jose's bullshit too.

"What?"

" _You're so full of shit._ "

Jose doesn't answer, but Brock doesn't care anymore.

" _Yeah._ Maybe if you actually had to put up with yourself, you'd know why everyone's always laughing at you."

" _Well you the who wanna fuck me, you big dumb ho!_ ",Jose snaps, his voice just a little bit weaker. Brock just shakes his head, already exhausted by how much sheer energy it's taken to keep up with him all _fucking_ day.

"You know what? Yeah, I _did._ But you are so _fucked up_ that you wouldn't let me, so thanks a fucking lot for keeping me from making an even _bigger_ mistake."

He knows he's out of line, feeling his chest tighten immediately as Jose's eyebrows knit in a tiny frown.

" _Uh-_ "

Jose's mouth opens, and closes, and Brock feels a sudden shame burn in his chest.

He's never had a boyfriend, and he doesn't know what he's doing. He doesn't know what to do, or how to stop himself, scoffing bitterly as he stalks out of Jose's bedroom.

" _I can't believe Vanessa lets her brother be such a little bitch._ "

* * *

**Two Weeks Later**

* * *

" _Thank you, mami._ "

Alexis reaches for a twenty dollar bill; a blonde boy in a white t-shirt holding it out towards her with a gleeful smile on his face. She swears; she knows his face, a memory that's lurking just on the tip of her tongue, not that it matters, as she steps off the stage, and takes a tray from the bar to start serving to the patrons on the floor.

Maybe he's just a big tipper with rich parents, and that's why she swears he's seen his bright, surprisingly clear eyes, before.

He's sweaty already, under the lights, his mouth slightly open as if he almost wants to say something, but she's worked the clubs for years, and doesn't look twice, barely noticing that he licks at his drying lips, and shoves his hands back in his pockets out of the corner of her eyes.

Everyone is already loose and starting to drink even more as it gets closer to midnight, bodies packed close together on the dance floor as she twirls through groups that collect in tight circles, grinding up against each others' thighs. Her tray is gone before she can blink, and so she circles back to the bar, where the same lanky blonde boy is swaying beside a barstool, missing every second beat of the throbbing rap song blasting around them.

" _Wait uh-_ ", he calls out, just as Alexis is about to duck backstage, and get Vanessa ready for her number. Or at least; make sure her wig is glued down, because her crazy drag daughter loves to live in the fantasy, whipping her hair from side to side.

She rolls her eyes; just a bit, turning back to the boy- because she knows these kids get drunk and handsy, and there's not a lot any of them can do, since they're all just kids who don't mean anything by it at the end of the day.

" _I really-"_ , he pauses a little bit, shrugging his shoulders despite himself underneath the hot, flashing lights. "I just wanted to say I loved your number. I've seen it on Youtube like a- a lot of times, and there's lots of people who do burlesque numbers, but your hands were perfect for that Esmeralda part. I didn't think they would be-"

His mouth drops closed; as if he's just realized what he's said.

"I- I'm a dance major, I mean, I do ballet and that's- that's what I do. I just wanted to let you know. You were _flawless_."

Alexis has had her share of admirers, but she can't help but smile, he's so _genuine_ \- and his eyes far too focused for him to have been drinking too much; even though he rambles like someone who's bravery is more bravado than anything.

"Well, thank you.", she can't help but laugh a little. "And you like dancers, hm?"

The boy nods. "I guess, yeah. I just- I don't want it to seem like I know anything, I just wanted to say you were really, really good."

"No, of course not. I really appreciate that."

She grips his hands in hers, not at all surprised that they're a little bit sweaty.

"If you like dance numbers, you are gonna love my baby girl Vanessa, she's on next. So don't go anywhere, hm? I know you're going to love her."

The boy just nods, so starstruck that all she can think off as she disappears backstage is how much he reminds her of Jose; before Vanessa, behind her.

Maybe she _will_ introduce the two of them.

Jose could use someone so sweet, and just his type: tall, bright, and white as a glass of milk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments very appreciated; I'm @brockinducedmeltdown261 on tumblr! :)
> 
> I'm shocked at the response this fic got and hope yo all enjoyed this past chapter as much through it's a bit more of a stylistic shift from straight comedy to straight awkwardness. 
> 
> And don't worry; someone will be bottoming next chapter, bcause y'all really love that.


	3. now i'm four five seconds from wildin' [and we got three more days 'til friday]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally DONE!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy the ending of this- and I'm so sorry for all the delays! Multi-chapters are just not my gig! :) I tend to think of things in cinematic timing and found there's a lot of bridging work that goes into writing vs. seeing; but I hope that I got all the scenes y'all were wanting!
> 
> CW: Scene of vandalism (sort of), description of injury (not in a graphic or violent context), smoking, casual (not explicit) sex scenes, anal sex- finally, because so many of you wanted to know who tops- that answer is here!

* * *

**Two Weeks Before**

* * *

**12:28 am**

**miss v <3**

vanessa i think i fucked up.

i said some things that i didn't mean to Jose and I'm so, so sorry.

I know I shouldn't put it on you but there's no one else I can talk to about any of this stuff. I've never had a boyfriend and i don't know what i'm doing

Steve and Courtney wouldn't get it.

Can you just tell him I'm sorry please.

I'm so so sorry

**12:30 am**

ummmm

our project is due this week can you ask him to just call me or send an e-mail or whatever.

I can't fail this class and this project was worth a lot.

**2:43 am**

V?

hey i'm sorry I spammed your phone.

i'm sorry about all of this.

whenever you get these can we please just talk

-

**5:45 am**

Vanessa?

did jose tell you we're not allowed to talk anymore?

seems like something he'd do

fuck

i dont mean that.

**2:12 pm**

just leave me alone.

**2:13 pm**

lol so you just do what jose tells you?

**2:13 pm**

fuck you

loyalty is important in my family

**2:13pm**

wtf....

your acting like i cheated on him

fine.

whatever.

i get it, i messed up.

just tell jose I'm sorry

**2:15pm**

lose my number

i'm serious.

**2:16pm**

if that's really what you want.

or whatever he does i guess 

* * *

They _really_ shouldn't be doing this.

Brock throws his head back on the dry, yellow grass outside of Jose and Vanessa's building; the bright green of the Walgreen's on the building's first floor throwing a sickly glow on to Courtney's skin beside him. Her eyes are squinted almost shut, and her red and purple hair splays around her shoulders, her face half hidden by the longer reeds of grass on the road island where they lay.

Courtney raises an arm, her fingers tracing a line until she hits the balcony of their apartment- an absolute mess of a concrete outcrop, housing a barbecue without a lid, a little scooter missing its front wheels, and piles of plants and boxes of wine that rest against the railing.

" _There_.", she mutters, before letting her arm drop back to her side, where Brock finds her fingers and twines his together, gritting his teeth as she squeezes back. They'd shared smokes on the bus, splitting the very last of Steve's six-packs of beer before they had left the house, and were buzzing with a pleasant, heady vibration that kept them glued to each other's sides as they ambled up a sun-baked sidewalk, and collapsed into each other outside.

Brock is so _lucky_.

He can't imagine why Courtney still thinks he's worth so much.

"Let's bust some windows.", she says quietly, wiggling her green-painted toes in her flip-flops. " _Who the fuck does Vanessa think she is?_ "

Brock huffs out a breath, biting down on the inside of his cheek.

Courtney had been on the warpath since the morning; after she and Brock had split a plate of pancakes at Denny's, and she had seen the texts that Vanessa had sent the day before. He and Courtney have always shared secrets, but this was Brock's very first breakup; and he had figured that she would have know what to do.

After all, Courtney had told he and Steve that she got laid more than more than the both of them combined, and Brock couldn't imagine why she would lie about it; since all of them did get laid pretty regularly- and he imagined that girls had less cleaning up to do and could probably jump into bed with each other with an ease that Brock could only wish was available to him.

Especially _now._

According to Courtney; Vanessa was a garbage friend and a shitty person, and since Brock had forgotten where she said she worked, they would have to go to her house to yell at her.

She wouldn't tell him why it was so important to do that; but Brock thought he'd figure it out along the way.

"What if we... what is Jose's there?", he asked her, as they swung from the bus poles at the stop just before Jose's building.

"Then you're gonna take _these_ -", she tapped on the knuckles just above his middle fingers, "- and stick 'em up in his dumbass face. What kind of shithead makes his sister fight his battles? Jose could have just talked to you... people have fights, and we're not little kids."

"It was just a couple texts- Court, maybe we should just go h-"

"How do you feel right now?", she asked.

" _Like shit._ Like yesterday. _I feel like shit._ But I fucked up first and-"

Courtney shuffled closer on the floor of the bus, as it ripped around a corner and she fell into his chest.

" _They_ don't deserve to make you feel like shit.", she said, decisively, as if it were a completely true fact- as they stepped off the bus at their stop. "They're both fucking cowards- loyalty is important my ass. You're the most loyal person I know. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Wait, really?", Brock asked, slowing his pace to match Courtney's much shorter legs. She didn't know the whole story; but Brock would sooner eat his own ballet slippers before admitting that it was completely intoxicating to listen to her come to his defense without question.

"Yeah, so I guess I need better friends. But I'll look into that next year.", she laughed, and threaded their arms together.

They had found a little island; cars zipping up the road on both sides of them as they laid in the grass, looking every bit the part of a straight couple who would soon start making out for the pleasure of the men who had rolled down their windows to whistle as they waited at the stoplights.

"I- I fucking _hate_ conflict. _Seriously._ ", Brock sighs, turning around the Coke can in free hand that isn't holding Courtney's. She has six Coke Zeroes in her backpack, and figures that they'll be able to spray the disgusting brown liquid all the way across Jose and Vanessa's balcony door from where they are, doing some kind of math that Brock tries to remember in case he'll need it for his next breakup.

"You can't bottle up your feelings forever.", she tells him, using his shoulder to prop herself up as she winds up her arm to throw.

"I fucking hate _feelings_ , then.", Brock says, as Courtney's can spins in her hands.

"Me too. That's why I went on birth control and don't get periods anymore. I'll give you my doctor's card.", she giggles, as the can flies across the road, hitting the railing and explodes across the glass door of the apartment, spraying a dark brown stain across the terra cotta wall that seeps and bleeds against the door frame.

"Your turn."

Brock grips the can tighter.

"I...- I don't think I want to-", he mutters, blinking up at the dripping stain across the door. "I can't...- I- it's not gonna make it better."

Courtney's breathing is even and smells like his cigarettes, and Brock tries to focus on that, as cars speed around them, and his heart throbs in his ears; cheeks growing red and hot with panic.

" _I don't want to do this._ ", he tells her, unable to shake the vision of Jose in his favorite weathered grey hoodie and shorts that would show his whole ass to the drivers below; teetering on the railing with a sponge and a bucket, trying to clean up the absolute mess that Brock had made. "Courtney, seriously- I don't- want to."

" _Fine._ "

She takes the can from his hands, and lobs it easily over the railing, watching the metal crunch under a spray of the syrupy liquid.

"Let's go.", she says after it fizzles out completely, against a box of white wine.

Brock gratefully takes her hand as they cross back over the street to the bus stop.

"You really liked this guy, huh?", she floats a question as they sit on the bench.

" _Yeah._ "

He knows she doesn't mind it; as he falls against her shoulder and lets himself cry, even if it's embarrassing enough that Brock tries to hide his face; ruddy and streaked with tears as they climb on to the bus.

"I have an idea.", Courtney starts as she squeezes into the window seat beside Brock.

"Great. We'll get deported.", Brock jokes, trying to fix a proper grin on his face as Courtney scrolls through her phone.

"Remember that Intro to Animal Therapy class I took last semester?"

"We can't get a puppy. Steve and Bruce would move out."

"No, dumbass. _Here-_ ", she holds up the phone to his face; an Instagram page open where tiny squares show a boy with caramel skin half naked and grinning up at the camera; his body wrapped around a huge orange tabby. "-this is Seth. He was the TA."

A switch goes off in the back of Brock's mind, and he snatches the phone from Courtney's hand. " _Shit-_ "

"Yeah, it's basically Brock bait.", she laughs. "But he's single and Brock-", Courtney pauses to make sure that they stop hasn't passed them by.

"-He's _nice_. He's really, really, nice."

* * *

**One Week Before**

* * *

**10:34pm**

**my good bitch reverend silky, pHd**

bitch where tf is you

ur on in 30 

u "sick" again bitch

pick up i called u like twice

-

**10:40pm**

alexis is gonna kick your ass

bitch you dead?

-

**11:57pm**

im drunk af

but i'm report you missing in the morning

-

It's Sunday night, and Jose is _living._

Living, in a way that makes him hate life so little he almost knows its secret- why people want to stay alive forever; his body nothing but pure joy and energy and so, so, much love- his mouth filled with the taste of smoke from the mouth of a boy who hasn't stopped kissing and touching him since they left his car and staggered into his frat house. 

Jose doesn't know his name, and that's the very best part- he known nothing about Jose, except he wants to be with him. His hair is a beautiful shade of brown; thick across the front of his forehead, and he says something about how it's almost his birthday when the pulls Jose by the tail of his shirt into one of the bedrooms. 

That's right- they're in his house, one of the campus frat houses at the university; and he doesn't mind that Jose is just _stupid_ \- doesn't mind that he's _fucked up_ , doesn't know anything about _Vanessa_ \- he wants her as much as anyone else ever has- sharing a joint with him as they climb the stairs that leaves Jose feeling so wide open he wants to give the whole house a hug, one by one. 

Except that this boy is the only one who he ever wants to hug again. 

"Wha's your name?", he slurs out, his body falling underneath the boy on a scratchy, linen comforter. 

"Aidan.", he says; before locking their lips together again. 

" _I love you_.", Jose can't help but tell him between their kisses; and he can feel that Aidan must feel the same, too. The way he touches him, stripping off his t-shirt and throwing it into a pile of laundry by the bed- isn't warm; isn't soft like Br- _like Jose has grown used to,_ but he's rough and wanting and Jose has never felt so _deserving_. 

"Sure you do.", Aidan teases, sucking at the skin above the bones of his hips. 

_Aidan_ is beautiful. 

_Wonderful._

Aidan _makes_ Jose perfect; if only for a moment; and his body takes care of everything else, his mind sinking into a peaceful bliss. 

If this is what _normal_ people had been like all along, Jose should have downloaded Grindr a long, long, time ago- before the mess with _Him_.

Why hadn't anyone told him that guys were _easy_? 

That they _didn't_ have to know you, or anything about you- to want you?

Did _Silky_ know and keep it a secret anyway? 

They are filthy when they finish; not that it matters; the whole house smelling of sex and alcohol and regret- as Aidan pushes him past empty-eyed girls hurrying to put their skirts back on, staring at him as if his eyes will have any measure of sympathy behind them. 

_Sympathy_ , the feeling like all of the others that drags him down and makes him someone who feels every word slice through him like they're real wounds, can _suck his dick_. 

Maybe he says it out loud; but before he knows it, Aidan is pouring liquor down his throat and he's choking until it starts to burn through whatever is left inside of him. 

"Hey- _you a bitch?_ ", someone shouts, grabbing his shoulder roughly and pressing him into the counter, knocking the both of them against several unattended drinks that spill across the tile, mixing into a color that looks like, old congealed blood. 

"The _fuck_?" You got a problem?", he shouts back, shoving against the other boy's shoulders. He's broad and thick- a sleeveless top clinging to his solid upper body, the band of his underwear visible over low-slung jeans; his hair darker than Jose; and his skin and eyes so pale he seems to flash in the light of the microwave and the refrigerator opening and closing at intervals that cut their light through the dim kitchen. "What the fuck that mean?"

"You gay?" 

" _Fuck you care if I'm gay_?" 

"'Cause- I'm looking for action, bitch. Why, I look straight to you or something?", he seethes, his breath smelling of far too much alcohol- pressed up beside Jose's ear, and he can feel his body recoil despite every part of his mind begging him not to. 

"N-no." 

"Shit. You straight then?", the boy starts to laugh, stepping away from him with both hands up in the air. "Shit- sorry- man, I'm so sorry." 

He's breathless; like its all a joke- and Jose wonders how many of them there must be- like _Aidan,_ and like this boy, for who living is like breathing- the easiest thing in the world. 

"No- I meant-.", Jose licks at his dry, chapped lips. "-You don't look straight." 

The boy turns back to him almost instantaneously- and his cheeks are wide cut through with a row of white teeth. 

"You want some, then? You gonna suck my dick, pretty boy?" 

Jose looks back to find Aidan; but he's nothing more than the collar of his shirt buried behind a circle of girls pouring liquor out of their water bottles. 

" _Yeah._ The fuck I am." 

"Ah- good." 

The boy takes his wrist and pulls him back upstairs.

" _Kameron._ You tested and all that shit?" 

"Yeah." 

Jose is so _lucky_.

He can't imagine why _Kameron_ still thinks he's _worth_ so much.

"Cool. Hope you don't suck at sucking.", he laughs, and Jose laughs with him. 

It's fine. 

He's normal. 

He's _okay_.

-

**1:19pm**

**my good bitch reverend silky, pHd**

oh shit that was tonight

last night

FUCK ME 

hahahahaha

hope you didn't actually call the cops

**1:25pm**

bitch

we was trying to call your mom

u ok 

**1:25pm**

whys everyone asking me

i'm good 

i'm grown

yall worried over nothing

**1:26pm**

if you good why you skipping on gigs?

u having man problems? 

i told you that blonde bitch was gonna have you fucked up

**1:45pm**

lolololololol 

not him!!!! 

you free later?

**1:45pm**

yeah

why

**1:47pm**

i got a whole ass educati on yesterday and im about to get u a bachelors of DS 

DICK SUCKING BABY

**1:47pm**

you sure ur ok

**1:49pm**

yeah baby

first i have to ask you something important though

why the FUCK didn't u tell me about grindr before

i got sooooo much trade

**1:50pm**

lmao ok bitch

sure i'll come over.

you sound like u need it

-

" _Must be nice to not have problems_.", Brock mutters under his breath, kicking at his locker as he and Steve go to collect his smokes. He shouldn't have excepted Jose to show up at all; but his chair is empty as ever in the back row, leaving Brock to quietly shuffle up to the front with their poster. 

He's pretty sure people are laughing because even his writing looks girly (since Courtney had to finish up all of the parts that Jose hadn't- _that he had refused to_ , even after Brock had sent him several e-mails that ended in he and Steve drunk on Courtney's grandmother's wine, typing out that he wished that he failed the class, too- even though Brock knows Jose's grades must be much better than his); and shame fills him as his voice rises; thin and reedy and embarrassing. 

It won't matter if he _doesn't_ fail the project, because Brock promises himself he'll never set foot in that classroom again, and Steve skips his next class just to make sure Brock doesn't pick up a reputation for being they gay kid who cries alone in the bathroom, too. 

"-Courtney was _right_ -", he pauses to light his cigarette, "- Vanessa _and_ Jose are fucking trash human beings."

"If this is you after _one_ breakup, I hope your ass is single forever.", Steve teases, his voice empty of any malice as he and Brock walk out into the open courtyard. "But I'm not that lucky, am I?" 

Brock is still angry, but it dulls a little bit, underneath nicotine and sunshine as he can't help but grin, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

"Nope." 

"So how are you and...- _new guy_?"

Brock chooses one of the benches facing away from the fountain, and holds up his phone to show Steve the latest pictures Seth has sent him. 

Seth, who calls him _beautiful_ , who questions nothing of him beyond what Brock wants him to see, who tells him the very first second that they meet, that Courtney is a _lovely person_ , winning his place in Brock's heart forever. 

He _isn't_ Jose, and that's the best thing about him.

"It's going good. We're going out clubbing tomorrow for Drag Night, and he showed me these really cool- drag queens on YouTube and one of them actually lives right in town!", Brock tells him, scrolling up the thread so that he can show Steve Alexis Mateo; who dis a beautiful number where she rises from a red dress covered with roses and flowers, opened a fan and performed like she was the very principal dancing Paquita.

Brock and Steve usually didn't stay late enough at the clubs to see the headliners; Steve usually balls-deep in a kid he vaguely knew from school, while Brock smoked outside and waited to feel _normal_ again. 

" _Shit-_ "

"What?"

"Brock, Seth _asked you on a date_ and you want me to come with you? Seriously, dude?" 

"So that's a no?" 

"It's a _hell no_ -", Steve says, pulling Brock's phone towards him. "Now lemme see this queen-"

* * *

**Tonight**

* * *

Brock and Seth sneak around the lineup into the club; taking two glasses tipped with umbrellas from a tray from one of the drag queens as they cut up the alley to find their seats at the bar. Seth smells like spice, the same way that Jose did, though Brock is trying not to think of that as Seth pulls him towards the front, pointing at a sliver of the backstage that they can see from the dance floor, where the party is only just getting started. 

" _That's her._ ", Seth points out, jabbing a finger in the air where Brock can see a queen in a gold dress, standing over a dark-haired boy dressed in shorts and a tank top, with a pink suitcase dragging behind him. 

"Who's that?", he asks, Seth's body thrumming beside his as they push up towards the front of the crowd. 

"Probably just one of the go-go's.", Seth chatters, and Brock forgets all about it, losing himself instead in music that starts to grow louder, happy to finally have someone there beside him as Alexis takes the stage; and YouTube doesn't do her justice at all, Brock unable to help himself from mentally calculating how much effort- how much she must have studied all of it- as his hand reaches up with a five dollar bill.

Seth melts into the dance floor somewhere; pulling Brock with him, and they dance and drink until Brock finds himself alone again- sitting at the bar, sipping at a glass of water when he spots Alexis with a tray of drinks on the floor. 

" _Hey-_ ", he can't help but seek her out; and pulls out twenty dollars from his back pocket.

\- 

Vanessa's back; and the whole club knows it from how much perfume gets sprayed through the dressing room; so heavy and sweet that even the go-go boys smell like flowers and sparkle with body mist, their dicks hanging in jockstraps that make Silky and Vanessa both turn their heads in unison as they walk up the hallway.

Silky's buzzed up, but Vanessa hasn't had anything to drink, her nerves getting the best of her since Alexis added her back to the roster.

She's never lied to her drag mother; not until Brock- plying her with a story about a family emergency, and wonders if she can tell that Vanessa is playing dirty now; or if she's always expected it- only acting like she was worried, and wrapping Vanessa up in her arms and touching her hair like a real mother would, was nothing more than part of the act.

There's not enough time to worry; the show already begun before Silky and Vanessa even start to get ready; anxiety fading into a rhythm of choosing her tools carefully, passing off little things between her and Silky- hairspray, brushes, polish, glue-

Coco has her all figured out (probably since Silky couldn't stop her mouth from running if it was a turtle) and glances thoughtfully above her mirror at Vanessa as she's painting her fingernails with glue and choosing her nails for the night out of Silky's case.

"He really ain't know what hit him, do he?", Coco asks, and Vanessa steels her eyes behind grey-blue contacts. She hardly wears these anymore; the cheap lenses always leaving her eyes burning when she takes them out, but when she had started out, Vanessa had always had bright blue eyes, the exact opposite of Jose's brown- too dark and warm to pop properly underneath the stage lights.

"No. He _don't_.", she says, opting for green nails with a golden gem at each of their tips.

 _The eye of the snake_ , she thinks to herself- and they'll match perfectly, with the snakeskin miniskirt and bustier she'd layered underneath a rose gold body chain that hooked into the loops of the buckles holding up her boots.

Vanessa _never left._

She's pulled out of the dressing room and ushered backstage; where Alexis introduces her with a flourish and utter pride that Vanessa knows she'll work until the say she's dead to ever deserve- before she disappears back into the crowd with a tray of drinks; the chairs at the front of the stage all having been scattered as people- boys, girls; all of them, are crushed together at its mouth, bodies grinding together with the music.

 _Her_ music.

How could this feel anything else- but _right_?

She kicks her leg up as high as she can in the air; revelling in the whistles and shouts that come as her shorts ride up just enough to tease them, fabric rubbing against the inside of her thighs, as she twirls and spins, arcing her back as she throws her body down on the stage.

The ground rushes up to meet her, her Vanessa lets herself fall into the feeling of being weightless.

The stage should absorb the fall from her shoulders; as her hair falls around them- and then she’ll kick her legs up and flick herself up- or maybe today she’ll stay on her knees, and grab the very first of the boys who lean over the stage, and kiss them as hard as she can, her lips bruising with the force of their teeth against her, their hands tight around her cheeks like she's theirs.

Like she was Kameron's, and Aidan's, and _anyone's_ \- if they wanted it bad enough-

_-Except._

She twists on the toes of her heeled boots, and feels something pop in her knee as she falls backwards.

Vanessa can see white, a burning pain exploding below her; the music still throbbing in a rhythm that matches her heartbeats as blood rushes to her face, and she almost wants to vomit.

But she can’t stop it.

Muscle memories take over, and she forces herself to stand; the sides of the stage blurring as she tries to make it to the end of the runway.

It doesn't _matter_ how much it hurts.

She _cannot_ be a disappointment.

Not _again_.

 _But you always are_ , Vanessa laughs; ever the little voice in the very back of Jose's mind.

_Shit._

Vanessa's fingers are tipped with a glittering green; and she reaches forward, forcing her body down on to her knees on the stage, the stabbing pain that radiates from her left side doing nothing to stop her as she threads her hand through a boy's long, blonde curls, meeting his lips in a crushing, forceful kiss-

" _Are you fucking kidding me right now-_ "

Vanessa's eyes flash with recognition, as the boy breaks away- his blue eyes meeting the screen of her lashes as everything hits her as once.

Her music cuts out; and Vanessa stumbles backwards, her entire body burning, throbbing with the humiliation that comes with realizing what she's just done as she forces her legs to keep pumping, ignoring how much it all _hurts-_

It's Brock.

_He had kissed Brock._

* * *

“Bitch...- you look pale as hell- y’all finally seen the ghost of that dude who choked on a dick?”, Silky laughs, half a slice of cake in her mouth as Vanessa collapses into the dressing room, breathless and queasy, the flickering lights of everyone's mirrors feeling like knives pricking at the corners of her eyes, off-white walls threatening to swallow her completely.

“ _Please-_ Shut up.”, Vanessa moans, bracing herself against the wall. “I need- fuck- _I need a drink_.”

She lets herself fall into Silky’s sequinned arms, the turquoise jewels of her showgirl costume scraping against Vanessa's bare skin.

“The fuck you do to yourself?”

“Popped my knee? Fuck, I don’t know. Do I look like a doctor? Silk-“, she whines against Silky’s shoulder, settling into her side. “ _This hurts like fucking hell -_ can I just- get a shot? _Please_?”

“Bitch I ain’t gonna carry you-“, she starts, pausing only when Vanessa’s face screws into a pained grimace. “Okay-, I got tequila in my backpack that’s in the office- that’s where they got that fridge with ice, too. “, she says, looking up the hallway. “C’mon. It’s not too far.”

" _No no no no no_. I'm not fucking going out there- _I can't-_

"It's fine, I'll piggyback you like them bitches on Grey's Anatomy-"

"No- no, _he's_ out there."

"Who, Alexis? She doin' no wig again tonight? That crazy bitch.", Coco pipes up from the back of the room, cutting through it with a brush still in her hands, her face half-finished; strips of orange cream colors running up her cheeks. Her hands are warm when they close around Vanessa's jewelled wrist. "C'mon V, baby. Breathe for me. You're okay. Your little ass is gonna be boppin' up on that stage tomorrow."

"No- it's not- _fucking_ okay! _Brock_ is out there and I made out with-"

" _The dude from your fucking phone?_ Oh, hell no, bitch-", Silky screams, and Vanessa can't stop herself from jumping up to try to close Silky's giant mouth. Her knee buckles under her, the same white hot flash of pain cutting through Silky's face like a bolt of lightning, cutting her in half in Vanessa's eyes.

" _Shit-_ sh- _Shut up! What if he can hear us?_ "

"He's here? Back here? _I ain't gonna get murdered for you, bitch-_ "

"I didn't say that-"

Coco watches the two of them bicker; their voices rising until Vanessa whimpers and sinks down into one of the benches, her head in her hands, looking utterly defeated.

"I fucked up. _Really, really bad._ "

"Yeah... we keep telling you, you gotta drop that bit where you kiss up on all these little boys.", Coco pretends to scold her, settling beside Vanessa on the bench. "That's only ever gonna end in herpes- or getting your heart broke."

" _Fuck getting my heart broke_.", she tells them, as sharply as she manage while trying not to let the tears leak out from the corners of her lashes; the room blurring into nothing but lights and colors, and Silky's voice that cuts through all of it.

“Why’s everything with you gotta be sneakily?”, she asks; and Vanessa can feel Silky's warm hand settle on top of her thigh. "You always hiding all kinds of shit when you know, you the fishiest one of us up in here."

Vanessa swallows her tears; the throbbing in her knee quieting for just a moment. " _Bitch,_ I love drag- but you don't have one better line than that? Fuck you, Silk. For real- _fuck you_."

"You just sayin' that 'cause you love me extra. But I'm meaning like- _emotional fish,_ you know what I'm sayin', Auntie Coco?"

"What Big Silk means is, you ain't hiding _shit_.", Coco laughs, squeezing Vanessa's hand so tightly that she can feel Coco's rings dig into her palm. "Don't matter, though. 'Cause you pretty on the inside and that bullshit. You don't gotta hide shit for the right man, 'cause he gonna know your true tea and love you anyway."

Vanessa wishes she could hug her, gritting her teeth as pain washes over her.

"Yeah, and if he don't, we gonna love you anyway. We your ride or die bitches."

"Can I still trade y'all in?"

"Sure, if you can walk yourself up to that fridge and get your own ice and pay for your own tequila.", Silky shoots back, chuckling as she flicks the muscle above Vanessa's knee.

"Ow- _Fuck you, Silky_!", she snaps, flinching away from her touch.

"Love you too, bitch. I love you, too."

-

"-so then, I was bookin' it, and this raggedy ass hoe straight up said he was gonna _eat_ my hamster. _Motherfucker!_ Anyway, and that's the story of my trade who just got of jail."

"That's definitely a story all right, 'cause _I know_ you don't get no trade ever-"

"You are a real salty bitch, you know that?"

Vanessa and Silky are squeezed into the club's tiny office; Silky's backpack open between them as they take shots with a plastic cup Vanessa finds rifling through the drawers while Silky plies the freezer for ice. Her leg is propped up on the desk; Silky's body wedged awkwardly between the door and a filing cabinet while she runs her mouth for only Vanessa to hear.

The pain has faded behind the alcohol, the injury not looking too bad once the swelling starts to come down from the ice, though Silky still winces when she sees the dark purple bruises that snake down her leg, and tells Vanessa not to think about it- they'll bum a ride home from Alexis; and she'll sleep over. Meanwhile, Vanessa's pretty sure that this is the most drunk-sober she's ever been, her vision suddenly so clear that she can see every jagged stitch on Silky's costume, which she hasn't bothered to change out of, instead layering a t-shirt on top to ward off the cold from the air conditioning blasting the little room with freezing bursts of air.

Everything makes so much more sense than it should, the line between Jose and Vanessa perfectly still and clear as Vanessa tips another sip of liquor into her mouth, still ringed with a dark lipstick that's only now beginning to wear off, and Jose leans forward to slap his best friend's arm.

"I ain't being salty! 'Sides, I got my road trade ready. Kameron texted me yesterday and said hit him up, anytime."

"Yeah, but you won't 'cause sucking his dick makes you cry."

" _Silk_."

"Okay, we gonna save the tea for when you feeling all better.", she backpedals easily, patting down the towel that they've layered a bag of ice on top of. "It is better, right?"

" _Would be better if this was Smirnoff_ -"

"Would be better if we wasn't hiding out from your crazy murderin' ass ex."

" _He ain't a-_ Listen, he make a better story than your weird-ass hamster-eater jail dude."

Vanessa is digging through Silky's backpack, tossing aside bits of paper and old fast-food wrappers to try to find the snacks she always has hidden at the bottom; and she's pulling Vanessa's chair closer little by little; careful not to tip it over.

Vanessa may be desired; but Jose doesn't know if she'd ever be this _happy_ , or feel like she's soaring, as much as he does just knowing that there's people on earth who think he's worth keeping around.

Maybe _Brock_ isn't one of them.

Maybe, that's just _fine_.

"Hey, Silk?"

"Yeah?"

Jose's fingers lock around the crinkly foil of a Rice Krispies wrapper.

"We _all_ going through it, right?"

"Through what, bitch?"

"The- you know, the struggle."

Silky is silent for just a moment, so rare that Jose worries his friend is broken.

" _Yeah. We sure are._ "

* * *

They don't break apart until Alexis raps on the door; just twice before she bursts in, still in her golden gown with the buckles of her heels undone, like she had run off stage the very moment she could.

Briefly, Vanessa wonders how much of it she could have seen from the floor- or if she had _known_ that Vanessa would bomb and just hoped that everyone would be drunk enough to forget it.

Except, she can see Alexis' worry underneath a thick line of white eyeliner, her cheeks flush just below a thick layer of blush.

"Oh, Vanessa-"

She wishes she could cry; or get up at least- so it didn't look as bad as it _was._

"It's fine. Don't worry about it.", she starts, shaking her head as Silky gives a grunt of agreement from the floor. "This whole night just fucking sucks, but- I'm not lying when I'm sayin' I can't feel _shit_ right now."

Alexis' palm is smooth against her cheek, her fingers flicking up against the honey-orange hair caught in Vanessa's lashes. "That's a _good_ thing?"

Vanessa points down at the pack of ice melting into the towel on her knee. "Uh, _yeah_ \- it's good. Wait-...", she pauses, letting Alexis' words roll over her. " _Shit_ \- all of you really clocked me, huh?"

Her hand settles on Vanessa's shoulder; a little bit of gentle pressure that Vanessa happily leans into, as Silky guffaws. "Yeah, bitch, and you couldn't pay us enough not to love your whole dumb ass, anyway." 

Alexis is brushing the glitter from Vanessa's collarbones, with a softness that Jose still hates himself so much for needing.

"There was a boy out there who was a big, big fan. I brought him back, but- should I tell him maybe next time? Let's give your Mom a call and see if she can come pick you up."

" _Wait, wait, wait-_ hold up- I mean...- _I'm not dead_ \- hold up-!"

"You a real _thirsty_ bitch, you know that?", Silky says, making Vanessa slap her hand against Silky's belly. "What if it's your crazy murdering ex?"

"Bitch, shut up- besides-", he turns his chair back to face Alexis and spreads as wide of a smile on his face as he can manage, strain pulling at the corners of his cheeks as the office's lights are reduced to nothing put pinpricks behind squinted eyes. "We the Mateos, we supposed to be the people's queens. So we gotta meet the people, right?"

Alexis cocks an eyebrow, and Silky bursts out laughing.

"Okay, maybe you guys just say hi, first though. Give each other your number- be a little bit old-fashioned. You don't need to jump into... _anything_ so fast.", she jokes, Vanessa nodding eagerly while Silky shakes her head.

"You're on in ten, by the way.", she adds, perhaps sensing that Silky could use a break.

" _Thank you, Jesus!_ ", Silky shouts, blowing a kiss to Vanessa, who only sticks out her tongue.

"You're sure you're up to it?", Alexis asks, more quietly this time- as Silky disappears behind the door swinging shut.

"Yeah.", Vanessa says with a nod. "It's really not that bad-...I promise-"

"Yeah?"

"-I didn't finish my number. I'm really, really sorry. I'm not tryin' to make this kind of shit a habit."

Alexis leans against the desk; exactly underneath the single fluorescent bar in the office; her lashes cutting stark shadows down her face that look just like black; triangular, tears.

"Baby, don't worry so much.", she tells Vanessa, taking a sip from the half-crushed cup that she and Silky had been sharing. "Accidents happen- and- I filled in for you for the rest of it. Like a little surprise, the crowd thought it was part of it. It doesn't matter what is going on, or whatever happened. I _don't_ want you to be embarrassed."

"Really?"

" _Yes, bitch._ So...- no stunts with this boy, understand? Even if he's your type."

"Okay."

-

Brock wants to punch Vanessa- apparently not _his_ real name at all- right in her glossy, maroon-lined mouth; the feeling of a red-hot rage blooming in his center the moment that he sees her on stage; boiling over completely when she _dares_ to kiss him- as if he's nothing but a little joke for all of her friends- _her fans-_ he reminds himself; whose bodies clamor to the front of the stage even after she runs off.

Even Seth thinks it's funny; tells him he's lucky to get a kiss from one of the queens, and Brock leaves him by the bar, stalking off and finding Alexis easily again on the floor.

It isn't hard to lie through his gritted teeth, raving about Vanessa and how badly he wants to meet her; and how he's been a fan for a while now. Alexis calls her talented; says she's made to be a star, and agrees to take him backstage, laughing how maybe, they should start charging for her meet and greets. 

_Maybe_ Vanessa _should try acting_ , Brock thinks to himself, hands buried in his pockets so Alexis can't see them ball into fists as she leads him into a dressing room where one of the other queens stares open-mouthed at him; and through into a narrow hallway outside.

_She lied._

No.

_He lied._

_Jose_ lied to him and used everything that Brock had told Vanessa to- _what?_ Pretend to be his boyfriend?

Brock should have known there was no way someone like Jose would be interested for real; desperately wishing he wasn't alone as Alexis disappeared behind one of the other doors. Courtney had sharper fists; and Brock had never won a fight in his entire life, and Steve would have known what to do- being a real proper _man_ who didn't need validation so badly that he let himself get played like an absolute fool.

The door opens and another queen comes ambling out; her back to Brock as she heads back into the dressing room, and soon, Alexis shuts the door behind her and waves him inside, the sequins on her costume glittering to form white-hot little points that burn into Brock's eyes.

_Fuck._

"Hey, baby-", she calls to him. "Come in here. _Vanessa, this is Brock-_ "

-

He should have known. 

With the luck he's been having; Jose should have seen it from miles away, if he'd been looking- but he's dumbfounded for just a moment, staring blankly into Brock's sharp blue-grey eyes before training his eyes right back to the musty carpet floor, humiliation searing through him as the avalanche of the past few weeks catches up to him in its terrifying entirety. 

"Silky might be a little bit psychic.", he mutters, a fact for only him to file away in his mind, Brock's unmasked displeasure so absolutely obvious in just the way he smells- a force that blows into the little room- that Jose wonders why Alexis is still smiling at him, as if Brock won't punch him in the face the moment he gets a chance. 

His much larger hands rear up in the corner of Jose's eyes, and he can't help but flinch when Brock's fingertips brush against his arm, his touch still something that Jose can't stop himself from craving. He runs his fingers back up his jacket, settling his hand on the bare skin of her shoulder. 

"Hey...- are you okay?", he asks- and his voice is absent of everything Jose has come to expect- anger, or disappointment, or resentment or- _anything._

He sounds like he always did. 

_Caring._

_Soft._

" _Why's everyone keep askin' me that?_ "

* * *

The fight seeps out of Brock the moment he sees Jose; Vanessa; whoever they are, squeezed into a corner of the office, his arms wrapped around himself- the sharp lines of Vanessa's eyeliner dulled at the corners where they've been washed down with obvious tears that leave splashes of glitter along the cheekbones that Brock remembers kissing softly at the foot of the fountain in the courtyard- a place where he'd considered taking _Seth_ \- and now feels like a traitor for even thinking so. 

" _'Cause you're not looking so hot._ ", he can't help but say, rubbing a circle into the collarbones left exposed by Vanessa's bustier. Jose's body is still; and Brock can feel his pulse from a point near his throat; where the ears of his tattoo prick up at Brock's fingers. 

He remembered texting Vanessa that her chest piece was beautiful; a sphinx in the center of a blossoming lotus, jeweled colors matching so perfectly with her warm brown skin; and it looks beautiful as ever on Jose. Most concerning, though- is the ice pack resting on his knee, and the heavy smell of alcohol which clings to the yellowed walls. 

"I just- had a little accident. You know when we thottin' and boppin' up there it's a hazard!", he chuckles, making Alexis sigh as she pours herself another drink from Silky's tequila. 

"Are you sure?" 

Jose nods, Vanessa's orange-blonde wig bouncing as he does. Brock can feel a spark of anger ignite again when he does; still hating how easy everything comes to him, but he buries it, letting the air huff out of his lungs. 

He couldn't even _throw_ a can of Coke at Jose's apartment window. Why the fuck has he thought he was going to _fight_ him?

"I- really enjoyed your performance tonight. I love how you- make the audience part of it.", he says, ducking his head when Jose visibly cringes. "And the mix was...yeah, great." 

" _Thanks._ ", he forces out, the discomfort between the two of them nearly palatable. "-Silky worked really hard on it-"

"Yo! Alexis, you in here? Bucket's here with your tips and if you don't get out here an take 'em, Silk's got her fatass hands in those dollars-",Jose can hear Coco shout from just behind the wall, relieved as his drag mother finally kicks past them, quietly shutting the door before they can hear her heels clicking back up the hallway. 

"Bitch, why you gotta pull me for some bullshit now?", she sighs, slapping her hand against Coco's shoulder. "Vanessa and the guy on her phone are gonna get in some shit, and I had a front row experience seat!" 

_"You know about that?"_

"Fuck all of you bitches. Of course I knew about it- I knew I knew his face from somewhere! And then he says he's Vanessa's fan. Since when does Vanessa have fans?" 

\- 

Inside, Brock shakes his head; incredulous. "Why did you do it?"

"What, _drag_? 'Cause I, dunno- wanted to dance but I couldn't make go-gos, so I bought a fucking wig.", Jose snaps, the alcohol clearly infusing him with a sudden courage that sharpens his voice so much Brock can't help but wince.

"No- not-... _I get being a drag queen_ but... pretending to be Vanessa. Why'd you pretend that you were- that she was real?"

"Because I-", Jose closes his mouth, wishing that the walls in the office would swallow him whole. "-Because I wish that she was." 

He's never said it out loud before.

He wrings his hands in his lap, knuckles going white as Jose finds he can't even look at Brock anymore, shame building up scalding hot; so much he's pretty sure what's left of his face might just melt off.

"I- I used to date this guy. It was- like a year ago, so that's a pretty long time, right? He...um, he cheated on me. Like a couple of....-", he pauses to draw a breath; downing the very last of what is left in the bottle on the desk before Brock can hear his voice crack. "It was a lot of times."

Brock nods, as though he understands. " _Asshole_."

" _It's not-_ just that.", Jose continues. "He cheated on me, but _bitch_ \- that street went both ways and I just...- _I let him_. 'Cause it made sense since- I think I'm just made wrong or some shit like that, and I don't even mean the _gay_ thing. I mean the- ...I dunno, I just get in my feelings real quick, I guess. But it doesn't matter, 'cause he could always find better. Hotter guys, guys who don't got issues, _whatever_ \- and then, um- he didn't need me anymore. Not that anyone really needs _me_ for shit- but I- I got so pissed when you said I was a fuck up 'cause you were _right._ "

Brock's face is buried in hands; as he rubs desperately at his eyes like he can shake the vision before him and see a whole brand new picture when the stars at the corners fade.

"Alexis got me into it, 'cause I was just sad all the time and-", he stops again, chuckling a little. "I really did try out for go-go's but my fat balls didn't make the cut."

"You don't have fat balls.", Brock sighs.

"Says you."

"Yeah. _Says me, the guy who sucked them_.", he groans, bracing his body against the filing cabinet.

"Anyway-", Jose waves his hand around the room; a wreckage of paper on the desk fluttering every time the air conditioner hits it. "-Vanessa's just- _someone none of that shit would ever happen to._ You would have never even talked to me if you didn't think I was her brother to start with."

"Hey, you would have never talked to me if-", Brock pauses as a realization sparks up in his mind. "-All that stuff you said about how people made fun of your voice and the- when we used to stay up and talk about movies and when you said you thought I was cool- that was all you?"

"Yup."

"Then _that shit_ \- would've happened to Vanessa, too. _People_ just treat people like shit, Jose. It doesn't matter if your balls are fat or not. If someone's gonna be an asshole, it's their own fucking choice."

"That's what Alexis said, too."

"'Cause she's right. I would have liked _you_ if- if you _ever_ would have noticed someone like me. I _do_ like you."

"Still? Silky said you was gonna murder me-"

"You make this really fucking hard, you know that?"

Brock shakes his head; and carefully steps around Jose in the office chair; so he give him a proper hug, and actually see his face- the glue on his eyelashes starting to crease into the glitter on his lids.

" _We could just start over._ ", Brock offers. 

"What's that mean?" 

"Like this." 

He reaches out his hand over the ice pack, gripping Jose's in his. 

"I'm _Brock._ I really loved you up there, by the way. You're so fucking gorgeous, too- and I was wondering, if you're free tonight?" 

His eyes sparkle with a sweetness that Jose sees for the first time without worry.

"I don't know." He winces a little bit, trying to focus on Brock's eyes; clear and wide and bright. "I don't have insurance. Am I still fucking gorgeous now?" 

"Very funny. But I do like a man who lives dangerously." 

"Cool. My name's _Jose,_ by the way." 

"That rhymed."

"Don't ruin the moment _-...bitch._ "

* * *

“-If these two bitches is in there fucking right now, I’m gonna take that bat we got to chase out the crazies and wreck her other knee.”, Silky shouts out, her body leaned heavily against the door of the office. "Hear me, Vanessa?"

“You just mad ‘cause you ain’t got a man like that- and you ain’t never gonna get yourself someone who’s gonna come running back here to hold your hand.”, Coco laughs, pulling her away from the door frame by the fringe of her costume.

Inside, Jose bites down on the inside of his cheek; cringing as Silky bangs against the wall.

"They're just fucking with me.", he sighs, knocking back against the wall. "Hear that, Silk? Y'all need to get a life."

"Y'all need to get protection!", his favorite sister sang from the other side; and Jose could hear Coco screech with laughter.

"They all gonna get into it now."

"It's cute.", Brock murmurs into his hair, thinking of how Steve would have probably been sitting at the bar, texting Courtney about how he was so head-over-heels for Jose that he'd literally tripped over him on stage in front of most of the gay guys in a five-mile radius after trying to hit on Vanessa's drag mother thinking he was such hot shit.

"It's... _something_."

"They just care a lot about you.", Brock offers, letting his hand settle on Jose's shoulder. "It's not the worst thing in the world. But I know that can feel kind of weird sometimes... 'cause... it's like me and my best friend Steve. I've known Steve since I was like twelve and sometimes I just think that- someday he's gonna figure out that I'm such a loser-"

"Yeah. Those hoes already got me clocked. Silky said I was fish in my feelings-"

"But- you know what can be kind of fun-", Brock waggles his eyebrows, looking so ridiculous Jose has to crack a grin despite how absolutely shit his entire night had been, the burning brightness of the lights above them fading into a softer warmth as he focuses on Brock licking his lips as he knocks back against the door.

"Hey, Silky!"

" _I don't do three-ways, bitch!_ ", she shouts back.

"No... no- I just need you to get me something.", Brock drops his voice; low and keening, and Jose can almost sense Silky's genuine worry through the drywall. "It's for Vanes- um, it's for Jose."

"Well, shit. Shoot."

"A whole box of tampons- ...oh, and a biohazard kit... ' _cause we're just a couple of girls who fuck._ ", Brock laughs, a wicked grin curling up his lips as Jose hears Silky let out such a noise of pure disgust that he can't help but laugh, doubling over in his barstool.

"Come on, Big Silk! Help a sister out!", Brock screams, pumping a fist in the air, so tall his knuckles scrape the white plaster of the ceiling above them.

" _Y'all crazy ass hoes!_ ", she screeches; and Jose can feel the floor move underneath them, as Silky turns on her heel; and stalks back up the hallway.

"But you're a _woman_! Shouldn't you know about this stuff?"

Jose can hear Alexis giggling on the other side, too.

" _Shit._ I'm never gonna live this down.", he groans; letting himself fall back against Brock's chest, pinning him lightly against the filing cabinet. Brock remembers the last time they touched like this; Jose's weight warm and right against his stomach, his warm brown eyes half-shut.

“You look kind of happy for someone who’s hurt themselves.”, Brock chuckles, letting his hands rest on his hips.

“It’s not too bad. Just my driving side. And Alexis thinks I’ll sue her or something ‘cause we on her clock.”, Jose supplies, wiggling his toes. "It'll probably be worse when I'm not drunk, though. Hurt like a bitch before Silky got me the good shit."

"It'll be okay. I did this a lot when I was in the ballet.", Brock reassures him, a little smile on his lips. " You _are_ gonna be pretty sore tomorrow, but it's good to rest a little. Lucky for you, I'm free- and Courtney lets me go on her Disney Plus."

" _Oooh, I've been wantin' to see that Baby Yoda show-_ "

“Vanessa should be a national hero.”, Coco laughs, watching as Steve's white Jeep speeds out of the parking lot after they've loaded Vanessa into it; the liquor seeming to finally lulled her into a sleepy, sweet, state- where she tells all of them she loves them far too much, and Brock has to half-carry her into the backseat while she slaps her hands lightly against his chest and shoulders, murmuring into his hair that she's _absolutely_ fine, and if he'd just let go of her- she _could so_ buckle her own seatbelt. 

Brock had called him for a ride; and while Silky had been apprehensive at first- if only because; as she reminded Vanessa in a far too loud stage whisper- she wouldn’t be able to run when Brock took out his “Ted Bundy shit”.

“That little bitch ran a stunt and got herself a _full_ serving of a man. Look at that, Silk: he don’t even wanna kill her.”

Alexis slaps a hand against her shoulder, shaking her head as she watches Silky suck in her cheeks in clear agreement.

“Don’t encourage that. Next thing you know, Silky will be telling the people on Tinder that she’s Aretha Franklin.”

“You saying she already don’t?”

“ _Hey! It ain't my fault some of the men's like a little fantasy-_ “

* * *

"You _sure_ you're good with this?"

Jose is kneeling on Brock's bed; his cock slick with lube as he rubs it back and forth over Brock.

Their relationship- their _real_ one- is barely three weeks old; still awkward and strange, and tender in places which neither had expected when they had first met.

There are no more kisses front of the fountain; the two of them preferring to find an empty classroom, or drive as far away into the desert as they can get away with in the middle of the day; exploring each other's bodies in ways that are just for themselves to enjoy.

More often than not, they're burrowed into one another, doing nothing but talking about everything, and kissing.

There's a lot of kissing, especially as their semester winds down, and Jose finds himself over at Brock's more and more, studying flash cards that Courtney makes them, brightly colored with big letters and drawings in the corners so that they're easy to remember- and Steve popping open bottles of beer and ordering pizza so that they remember there's a world outside of those cards, too.

Today; they had left a mess downstairs in Courtney's kitchen, textbooks scattered across the counter, grease soaking into their covers from the cheese pizza they had ordered and promptly forgotten about as they raced upstairs to Brock's bedroom; stripping to nothing the moment they had both realized the house was empty, and would be for the rest of the night.

"Yeah."

He slowly pushes himself inside; careful as the head of his cock meets a little bit of resistance.

Brock's legs spread wider apart; stuttering a little bit as he makes a small; blissful noise Jose can't believe can come from someone so absolutely huge; one of Brock's thighs easily bigger than both of his forearms.

He stops. "Okay?"

"Just – give me a second?", Brock pants out. " _Slap my cock._ "

"Bitch- _what_?"

"Slap my cock," Brock repeats impatiently. "Or- I don't know, just do something. Give me something to think about."

" _Other than my bomb ass dick?_ "

" _God-_ ", Brock moans. "Take my mind off of it."

He forces himself wider; the muscles bulging in his hips; and Jose gasps from sheer shock.

He's seen a lot of porn, and he'd _never_ thought that he might be one of the guys who would need to take it slow.

The angle's the worst; his knees sinking into Brock's creamy beige sheets, bobbing up and down as they both try to get stable- but he leans forward, bracing himself against Brock's hips and reaching forward, fingers locking lightly around his hardening dick, wincing as Brock's breath shudders out of him.

"Harder."

"What?"

"If you're gonna stroke me off- I want- _I need you to stroke me off_."

Jose's grip tightens without warning, as he moves his hand down Brock's dick, with as much force as he can manage without losing his balance completely. Brock's arms threaten to buckle for a moment; moaning in what sounds more like pain than pleasure, a noise that echoes around the room like a shot.

Jose is acutely aware of the photo of Brock, Courtney and Steve hanging from the clothespins above his headboard watching him, as a pumps his boyfriend's cock twice more.

"Okay. Fuck-...fuck- go _. Fuck me_. " His breathing is ragged; and Jose has never had this much _power_ , over anyone- as he pushes himself completely inside, one hand guiding him and the other still hanging by his cock, moving to brace his body against Brock's. It's so tight that Jose wants to scream, the absolute dread at the realization of how easy it would be to hurt him the only thing that keeps him from totally losing control. He smooths his hand over the small of Brock's back, his skin flush and hot.

" _I said fuck me._ "

"Jeez, we gettin' there, you crazy ho.", Jose mutters; a wicked grin spreading across his face even though Brock is trembling already; and can't see it anyway.

He pulls out; until just the tip of him is still inside Brock's body; pausing for a moment before thrusting, without warning until he bottoms out; Brock's mouth falling open with a ragged, harsh groan.

"Fucking- _shit-_ you- keep going. Keep fucking me."

Jose doesn’t understand how Brock is still talking, the absolute euphoria of his own cock pressing in and out of Brock's ass; the sensation of their bodies meeting; again and again as sweat slicks across the muscles of Brock's back; his wet curls bouncing as he's reduced to heaving, spare breaths, Jose's cock meeting the very back of him, as Brock explodes with pleasure, falling forward on to his elbows, his face in the pillows.

It's just that, the picture of Brock, so completely his, that finishes Jose off completely; and he feels the pressure in his middle grow almost too strong, as he comes as hard as he remembers ever having come in his life, shooting inside his boyfriend as his legs buckle underneath him.

Only a moment later, Brock is looking at him over his shoulder, his cheeks ruddy with exertion and his eyes perfectly glassy and wide-

“Why’d you stop?"

Jose nods wordlessly, still panting through his open mouth; gesturing at the space between them.

"Bitch- I-"

His head is spinning with sensation; fingertips still tingling; a shameful whimper slipping from his mouth because it's more than he expected; and Jose is so overloaded, he wears he can feel the grain of Brock's headboard scratch against his balls.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm- I-"

He needs a break; needs to breathe; needs something cold against his skin where everything is a shade too dark; too warm and suffocating-

"Jose?" Brock's voice cuts through him, forcing him to focus.

" _I just-_ "

Brock reaches behind himself, his arms as impossibly long as the rest of him, fingertips helping Jose pull out.

“Hey.” He turns around and crawls over to him, kissing his boyfriend softly; his mouth still tasting sweet and lush.

“I have a suggestion.”

"Okay."

Brock's teeth flash between his lips as he grins. “How 'bout I return the favor... ?"

“Y-yeah. _Yeah._ Let’s try that.,” Jose manages to say, though he doesn’t quite trust his voice.

“Okay. Just lie back. Relax for me, okay? You- you're ready right?"

Jose's cheeks burn with utter humiliation, even though Brock has already seen so much of him- parts that are far more intimate than just his asshole. But, it's the very last curtain of his façade, and if the bed swallowed him up in that moment, spitting him out halfway across the world in China; it would be far too soon.

"Yeah- ready for anything. You know-"

Jesus must feel like raining down blessings, because Brock doesn't cringe away in disgust; or look down on him like he's nothing more than a little bitch. Instead, his arms shoot forward, steadying his shoulders so Jose can wriggle down into the sheets; his nerves still frayed with feeling, through Brock's touch grounds him as he lies down on his stomach, feeling the bed shift as the weight of his boyfriend bears down on top of him and Brock straddles his hips.

He's still gentle as he spreads Jose apart, stroking himself as he preps his cock, rubbing his free hand comfortingly across his back. Jose is still shaky, but Brock feels him keen to his touch, calming as Brock moves in a slow circle.

"Ready?", he asks, and Jose is suddenly worried for a moment, that he'll freak, and Brock won't be able to get himself all the way in, the firm pressure of his cock pushing inside of him almost enough to make Jose white out on the spot.

He sinks all the way inside, a pleasing soreness settling into Jose's center as Brock fills him, the sensation clearing through his thoughts so that all he can think; is how much he enjoys this- how there's no worry, no anxiety or fear as Brock's hips roll a little unsteadily against him.

It feels good- better than being in Brock's position did, as his slow thrusts give Jose enough room to savor how Brock presses just right up against the right places inside of him; forcing him to angle his ass up, craving more of the electric feeling that pulses from somewhere deep inside. His skin is still singing, and his whole body feels impossibly tender, a soft pain creeping into the corners of his consciousness as Brock pulls out, letting Jose take in a deep, shuddering breath.

“Hey.” Brock's hand rests on the back of his neck, stroking his hair. They’re both sweaty, and probably disgusting, but all Jose can feel is warm. “How did I do?"

Brock is gentle, but Jose still can’t help how he can barely look back up at him, every part of him burning with a feeling he doesn't know if he would understand in words.

"Real good.", he finally says, when Brock's found some flowery-smelling wet wipes from somewhere, and is wiping away the lube and come, the care and attention on his face something that Jose knows he isn't equipped to deal with right now.

Instead, he reaches out and takes Brock's other hand, interlacing their fingers.

"We gotta do that again, okay?"

"You bet, big guy."

* * *

**One Year Later**

* * *

"You should go on Drag Race.", Brock says, while they're both lying on the scratchy carpet in their new apartment.

He rises; does some digging and dusts off the camera in the bottom of Jose's desk drawer, surprised to find there's still a card inside it, even though Jose swears the last time he had used it had been for one of Silky's birthdays.

"C'mon.", he laughs, focusing the camera on his boyfriend; who's sitting cross legged on the floor in nothing but his boxers. " _Here-_ ", Brock fishes a wig from one of the boxes under the bed and flicks it against Jose's chest. "Who would you be for Snatch Game?"

"Bitch…I'd be going home 'cause of Snatch Game and you know it, you triflin' ho."

"Nah, you'd go home first. You wouldn't even make it to Snatch Game.", Brock teases, his smile so wide Jose can't even be angry as he lays the dark; tangled wig over his hair, lace swimming in his eyes as he sticks out his tongue.

"A'ight, so I'm be that bitch from The Ring. I don't even have to do my face and still be cursin' all the gays at home."

"All right… _Vanessa_."

Brock scrolls through some of the settings on the camera; so he can zoom in to the tattoo on Jose's chest, using his fingers to angle it higher and capture his moon-faced grin in extreme close up. "Why would you want to curse all the gays at home? Don't they already have it hard enough?"

"'Cause they gonna be tryin' to steal my man."

"You don't trust your man to make good choices?"

Brock watches as Jose shakes his head, his wig askew in the camera's viewfinder. "I'm one of the best choices he's made so you know he ain't one of those good choice bitches, but he did pass the drivers' test even though he can't read."

"As your man, I'd just like to point out that I read _your_ ass to filth every day.", he shoots back, shutting off the camera and laying it back on the desktop.

"More like you _eat_ my ass every day."

"Oh, you have wit now! Maybe next week you'll have abs."

" _Bitch_ -"

Brock dips to his knees before his boyfriend; pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

He'll _never_ get tired of it.

He wraps an arm around Jose's chest, wrestling him up so the two of them can shuffle the few steps over to their closet; stocked on one side with Jose's clothes; Vanessa occupying several boxes on the floor while Brock's clothes are folded neatly on the top shelf.

He can't remember ever having shared a closet, and can't imagine ever having one to himself again.

"Alexis said ugly sweaters for her party right? I hope you don't mind me showing a little bit of skin, because I'm gonna have to borrow one from you.", Brock says, as matter-of-factly as he can manage, feeling Jose's laughter, warm and breathy against his bare chest.

"You just bring your ugly-ass mouth, how about that?", he giggles, smacking his palm against Brock's nipple.

"Nah… you'd just spend all night kissing me."

"And that's a bad thing?"

Every year; Alexis hosts a holiday party for all of the girls at the club; their little family picking up wayward members at a speed Jose can hardly keep track of, each corner of the little house filled with Vanessa's sisters screaming with laughter and liquor and so much love that he doesn't think he'll have any left for Brock, when he finally finds his boyfriend sitting on a loveseat in the living room, his blonde curls stuck to his forehead as he looks down at his hands in intense concentration.

"Don't tell me they got you in on the Barbie pageant.", Jose groans, falling into the cushions beside Brock, his body keening to his boyfriend's warm, steady weight. It's one of their drag house's only enduring traditions- marching out their Barbies in looks fit for RuPaul's runway- and Silky's won it for two years running now, while Vanessa's usually been in the kitchen, running the burns from her adventure with Coco's legendary eighty-degree hot glue gun under cold water in the sink.

"I'm going to _win_ the Barbie pageant.", Brock says decisively, holding up his doll by her blonde hair. " _This is Miss Brooke Lynn_."

Jose's about to laugh, but he looks down at the card table before them first, eyes widening at Brock's selection of material. There's a ribbon of yellow latex and a bright blue fabric, cut into the pattern for a little pantsuit with a pair of safety scissors Brock had probably struggled with for hours while Jose had split a bottle of tequila in the kitchen with Silky. Three needles were pierced neatly into a spool of yellow thread, and even though he'd never looked closely enough at the details of the doll outfits, Jose could tell the contrast would cut nicely through the blue and look… _absolutely sickening._

"You really know what you doing, huh? How come you're not like this when I gotta get my costumes done? Y'all leave me to suffer with _Bertha-_ "

"You never ask. Besides, learning to sew is helpful for a drag queen-"

Jose laid his head against Brock's shoulder, as he held up his square of fabric to the light.

"Maybe I'm gonna start asking then. What look you goin' for, baby?"

"90's supermodel superhero. Saturday morning _and_ Saturday night. I want big bitchy shoulders and a tight waist, and then I have these rubber bands that are gonna look like dominatrix boots- are you still listening to me?"

Jose nods eagerly, filled with a strangely foreign kind of warmth watching Brock be so unabashedly passionate. If he were talking, while he danced, Jose imagines he'd be like this.

"Yes, bitch. I'm tryin' to think if we need other stuff. I know where all the shit is in this house."

"Oh-", Brock paused, reaching behind him to produce a darker-haired Barbie doll, already dressed in a tiny pink swimsuit, and a little sandwich bag filled with small flower appliques Jose was pretty sure were for scrapbooks. "Almost forgot. Brooke Lynn needs arm candy."

"Arm candy? _Oh it's on, bitch-_ "

He snatched the bag and the doll from Brock; laying both out on the table. He could see the flowers on the swimsuit; maybe a little cape or a scarf around her neck-

"Maybe I should become a drag queen, too. Then we could make out on stage and it wouldn't be weird.", Brock says, his voice interrupting Jose's thoughts. 

"You can make out with me on stage every Friday, ho. Just gotta make sure you tip.", he murmurs, reaching for the thread so he can get started on his Barbie.

"No-", Brock reached for Jose's doll from the table, holding the two of them up. "Look- it's Vanessa and Brooke Lynn, the Hot Wives Club!"

"Fuck no! You know my mom will kill me if I do porn. Pretty sure it's _double_ kill me if it's lesbian porn."

"It wouldn't be porny! They're just two girls who… fuck."

"You drank Coco's moonshine, didn't you?"

"No… um, Coco's the big one, right?"

"No- she's- _she's-_ ", Jose doubles over in laughter, his hands gripped tight to the tops of Brock's knees. "Can I just say something?"

"Shoot.", Brock tells him, running a thumb across the tops of Jose's knuckles.

"I really, _really_ love you."

"I know. Me too."

Jose doesn't mind it; nuzzling closer in to Brock's center.

"Wait.", he finally says; after a moment of awkward, blissful quiet. "I meant you, too. _I love you, too_." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @brockinducedmeltdown on tumblr! 
> 
> Merry Xmas, clowns- that last scene probably answered the question of "why this bish updated on christmas" lol
> 
> Finally, sorry that there was so little of the actual school parts in here. I know I said college AU but it very quickly turned into a "that special awkward young gays time" Indie Movie Rom-Com AU fic more so than that. I'm always down to discuss headcanons and love chatting with you guys! 
> 
> Hope that this little universe had something that left all of you satisfied at the end of it! I'm sure all of you can tell where it goes from here...
> 
> [and if you didn't like it just know it ended better than fucking star wars lol! not a single plot thread left hanging- IN MY MIND anyway -just kidding, I know the ADHD thread was dropped but it just...honestly didn't feel as important to the overall story as something that Brock and Jose NEEDED to bond over. Oops... I did intend to have that be a part of the scene in the bed before the boys fight in chapter two buuuut- y'all; there just isn't an audience for 25k+ word chapters, I THINK- and it just felt so indulgent and uneeded to move the whole story forward]
> 
> If you want to see more of these "Types" of super-specific boy (or girl honestly) AUs; hmu on Tumblr!


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